


The Vacation

by zeesmuse



Category: Doom (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-23
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-11-10 13:36:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/466896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeesmuse/pseuds/zeesmuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Grimm - aka Reaper - and his sister Sam are sent to a small secluded Pacific Island for an unspecified amount of time for enforced R&R while the powers that be clean up the mess that was 'The Ark' and John can come to terms with his new found 'powers' thanks to Sam injecting him with C24. They inadvertently cross paths with a field anthropologist who is quite territorial for unnamed reasons. Bottom line, John likes how she smells and that bothers him, because she smells just like the couple there on their honeymoon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Changes in Attitudes, Changes in Latitudes

**Author's Note:**

> Title: The Vacation  
> Author: Zeedrippyvessel  
> Fandom: DOOM  
> Genre: FCHet,  
> Characters: John ‘Reaper’ Grimm/OFC, Samantha Grimm/OMC  
> Rating: NC17  
> Disclaimer: It ain’t mine. The characters, the DOOM universe. None of it. Dammit. Breaking my heart.  
> Timeline: 2046 – 2 months after the destruction of the Ark  
> Setting: Earth  
> Warnings: There will be some gross scenes, I’m sure.  
> Spoilers: No.  
> Beta: Alex-Cat  
> Dedication:  
> Author's Notes: Yes, the chapter titles are what you think they are. Kudos if you figure them out fast enough

_**The Vacation**_

_**Prologue**_

_**Stories we could tell**_

_AP Wire: 09/23/2046_

_According to a press release from the Union Aerospace Corporation, an accident took place at the Ark Facility, the evening of September 22, 2046, temporarily shutting down The Ark Operation. Casualty count is unknown. Information will be made known, as it is available._

_UPI: 09/29/2046_

_According to an anonymous source, the reported accident that took place at the Ark Facility was not an accident at all. It was demolished by a Marine Rapid Response Tactical Squad, destroying valuable data, information, research, that rendered both Earth and Mars facilities damaged beyond repair. It is unknown if the Ark will ever be reopened._

_New York Times Blurb. Section A; page 32; buried: 10/02/2046_

_In a press statement today, a USMC spokesman for General Grant Leestrom admitted that a RRTS in fact destroyed the Ark Transporter to Mars in an unexplained maneuver. Eighty four of eighty-five UAC personnel were killed, as were six of the seven RRTS Marines. The spokesman refused to answer questions as to why a Rapid Response Tactical Squad was sent into a peaceful Scientific Lab, populated and manned by archeologists and their children or why no bodies have been recovered…_

_USA Today: Section A: page 2 10/24/2046_

_In a press release today, UAC denied any wrong doing by any of their scientists at the Olduvai Research Facility. Any report of weapons research, human experiments were ‘preposterous’ and ‘over-blown.’ The facility, they reiterated was an archeological research facility. Questions about the repair or reestablishment of the Ark Transporter were ignored._

_Blog for ‘Itsa Conspiracy’ 04/21/2047_

_I’m tellin’ you, man. There is only one reason why a heavily armed RRTS of Marines would go into a facility like that: those scieRuntists either uncovered something or more than likely, one of their experiments turned on them. Probably making giant werebunnies or some shit._

_\- Qtpie: (04/21/2047 17:41) 075 7630 3973 02  
Werebunnies… hah! More like Giant Zombie bunnies or Vampire  
bunnies! _

_\- Ruckmefaw (04/22/2047 02:56) 210 3765 9847 45  
I don’t think Mars is dead at all. I think they woke something up they shouldn’t have or they were experimenting on it and it turned on them. This isn’t the first time there’s been an accident up there. Two people were killed years ago – a husband and wife team. I’ve also heard the two survivors – a Marine and a Scientist – are brother and sister. Wouldn’t it be fucking spectacular if the people that were killed before were their parents? And this was their revenge… _

_**The Vacation**_  


_**Chapter 01**_  


_**Changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes**_  


The flight was monotonous. Long, boring… John Grimm – Reaper to his friends and cohorts – didn’t have a problem with long, boring or monotonous. It was just life.

_But you don’t have any friends or cohorts left, do you?_

At that thought, he dropped his head, staring at his lap. The Ark was destroyed; all that nastiness… Sarge… Mac… Duke… all of it. His new C.O. informed him that he was overdue for some R & R and, by God, he was going to take it!

Six months! Six fucking months of enforced R & R! To start! What the hell was he supposed to do? Play nursemaid to Sam?

There was a fidgety rustling beside him. His sister, Sam, rolled over in her seat, her leg, obviously stiff and giving her fits. He still hadn’t gotten the entire story out of her of exactly what happened while he was… what was he doing? Changing? Morphing? This super-human stuff was bullshit. He reached down, gently massaging where he knew, he could sense, she was stiffest. Of course, the therapist had told him as well, taught him the exercises, all of it, to help her with her rehab.

“Thanks.” She opened her eyes and looked at him under tousled locks. “How much longer? Where are we going again?”

“Somewhere romantic.” He leered.

She snorted and closed her eyes again.

His new C.O. had a sense of humor and ‘arranged’ this vacation for him and his sister. “You’ll love it,” he smiled. “Wife and I went there for our 25th anniversary. Out in the Pacific. Quiet, remote-“

“Sir. This is my sister I’m taking with me, not anyone important.”

The man was grizzled, had seen too many battles and fights and it showed in his face. It was rumored the reason why he had a desk job now was because his missing eye created havoc with his field of depth, making even pot shots a joke. He grunted at Reaper’s comment. “She’s tough, your sister.”

It crossed Reaper’s mind to remind the man Sam was his womb-mate; she had to be tough, but he was already continuing. “I have already arranged a month. If you need more-“

“Sir?” Reaper was trying to maintain an even tone, “No disrespect but I have already had over a month off. I would like to be reassigned to a new unit and get back to work.”

The major sighed and methodically straightened his stack of papers on his desk. He slowly got up and came around the desk. “Soldier, let me remind you of a few things and possibly open a few windows of your mind, small as they and it may be.” With this, the man sat on the edge of the desk, his hands folded neatly in his lap. “You and your sister are the only survivors of a major catastrophic fuck up; one our government has had a horrific time keeping as under the radar as possible. This is not your average SNAFU. Your entire unit was wiped out, with you as the sole survivor and while I believe your story completely, there are higher ups-“ higher ups was stressed to show how serious the situation was, “- that are having serious issues with your alibi. Also, your sister is the only survivor of an entire team of scientists and their families.” He leaned forward, glaring at the younger Marine in front of him. “Ninety people dead and not a body for their families to cry and wail over. They are asking questions we can’t or won’t answer! We won’t discuss that a multi-billion dollar facility is now rubble along with lost equipment and valuable information worth more than your replaceable ass and an irreplaceable archeological site on another planet is in ruins and impossible to excavate because you made it so!” 

The commanding officer was now standing, in Reaper’s face. Reaper was at full attention, staring ahead, feeling much as he had as a young, green recruit. “The Company whose information you were ordered to retrieve knows they’ve lost something valuable and the two of you know what it is and are responsible!” The man’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Their research was funded by federal funds. The government is very unhappy because things were supposed to be retrieved and they weren’t.” 

He stepped back and resumed in a normal voice. “The conspiracy blogs are having a field day and their readership and hits are going up exponentially! The scary thing is they are pretty much on target! I like you, Grimm, so take my advice.” Heated breath blew across his face and Reaper could smell what the man had had for lunch, breakfast and could discern exactly what type of cigar he had smoked after dinner the night before, “There are people who want your head. They want your sister’s pretty little cranium as well and they don’t care what type of platter either one is served on. Take the R&R and stay the fuck there until I recall you. I am trying to save your pretty little ass!” The next sentence was a barely audible hiss. “It might be a month if you’re lucky, which you won’t be so it probably will be six or more! You are damn lucky you are still a Marine. Is that clear?”

“Sir. Yes sir.” Grimm focused on the bolt that held two pieces of metal sheet together that formed the corner of the filing cabinet behind the desk. It was small and miniscule, easily missed, under normal circumstances.

But all of Reaper’s senses were heightened, enhanced, and he saw things, noticed things that most people missed now.

Like the body odor of the Major barely discernable under his Old Spice cologne. And the whiff of Ivory soap, clinging to Sam.

As well as the strange, erotic aroma coming from the couple across the aisle on the plane. It was their honeymoon, they were newlyweds and the closer the plane approached their destination, the more tangy the scent became.

Reaper was aware he was the only one on the plane who could smell it. This C24 was going to be bothersome and a fucking nuisance. He wondered if there was any way to get rid of it, a vaccine or something. For not the first time, he made mental note to ask Sam, when the time was right.

Sooner than later, the pilot of the small plane instructed the six people on board to secure anything loose and pull the seats up. Sam was having a difficult time of it and scowled at her brother when he attempted to help her. “Why all the help now?”

Reaper bristled. “Don’t start. Just because we chose different paths…”

“I know.” She put her hand on his wrist and used it for leverage to straighten up. “Old habits.” She gave him a sheepish smile. “Maybe its time to plant some new ones. I’m glad you’re with me. I’ve really missed you.” She looked out the window over the overgrown jungle island. “It’s beautiful, John. I hope you thanked your commanding officer.”

_Yeah, right. Just wait until you hear._

Sam continued to peruse the landscape from above. “I see the little village and the beach… I’ve not been to the beach in years. It’s gorgeous” What hackling Reaper was feeling softened. The wistfulness in his sister’s voice reminded him vaguely of his mother, when she was wanting something from his father.

She usually got her wish.

“John?” Sam was patting his arm. “John?”

“Sure, what?”

She looked at him with concern. “Are you okay?”

“Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“About how much you sounded like mom trying to finagle something out of dad,” he smirked.

She smacked him. “I was asking you how long are we here?” She was trying to read him, much like she had when they were younger. “A week? Two weeks?”

His smile became fixed. “Six months. To start.”

“To start?” Her smile fell and her whisper was horrified.

Reaper nodded. “Yeah. To start. I’m not happy about it either, but…” He let his voice trail off. 

“But-“ 

“We’ll discuss it when we get settled, okay?”

“But-“

“ _When_ we get situated.” He gave her his most fierce, ‘ _I am a tough mother fucking Marine Special Forces Bastard and don’t mess with me’_ look. 

At that point, the plane began its descent.

~*~

There was a native waiting for them with a placard when they arrived. While Sam was out of her cast, she was still on crutches, which pissed her off. She joked her leg and hip was more pins and metal than bone but Reaper knew he hit a nerve when he called her “Darth Vader.’ Thankfully, the native was patient and extremely attentive to Sam, attempting to offer his arm until he caught and withered under Reaper’s scowl.

“I sorry,” the man stammered in very broken English. “I only wish help to your wife.”

“He’s my brother.” Sam corrected him tersely. They stood out on the short tarmac, watching bag after bag tossed down. Reaper recognized the tags for theirs and began to grab them, pile them up.

“John, I didn’t pack this much stuff.”

“No. You didn’t.” He shook his head at her obvious accusation. 

“Then who?” He smiled at her mirthlessly. “Oh. This falls under the We Will Discuss This When We Get Settled, right?”

Reaper was now carrying the luggage to the bicycle taxi. Although he could have carried them all in one trip, he wasn’t sure he wanted to bring attention to himself, so he made two trips, just to be safe. Sam took her time getting herself situated in the umbrellaed seat behind the ‘driver’ and Reaper could swear he could hear things pop and click as she pulled her leg up.

Again, he was overly aware of sights, sounds, colors, smells. His taste buds had gone apeshit, herbs and spices suddenly becoming explosions in his mouth, making meal times an adventure of fricking mammoth proportions. Seeing that the mountain of luggage was loaded and secured, Reaper climbed in next to his sister. “So where are you taking us?”

“To JinJin. You be here long time, you pick your house.” With a lurch, the taxi took off, the driver yelling at animals ranging from dogs to pigs to people to move. Reaper leaned back, pulling his sunglasses from the top of his head, to shade his eyes. Relaxed though he looked, he was anything but. Behind the protection of the mirrored lenses, he scoped out alleys, plants, the rising forested mountains behind the little village. They intrigued him, he could sense the life teeming, hiding behind and under the canopy. He might have to explore it.

Hell. Might nothing. He _would_ explore it. He wanted to explore a lot of things.

Like how fast he could run, how long he could keep it up. How quickly could he recuperate from an exhausting work out? He tried several times at the gym before his C.O. called him into his office and ordered him not to bring attention to himself. _“Last thing we want is you tattooing a damn Superman ‘S’ on your chest for everyone to see! Would you like a cape to go with that, soldier?”_

He was itching for a run.

And irritatingly enough, this little village was anything but small. Oh, it wasn’t big, hell no, but it looked as if there were at least several hundred people there at any given time. They passed a small school, a grocery store.

Reaper wondered if he would find monkey-meat there. Or what type of exotic bird… crocodile… 

He wondered if there was a brothel or somewhere where he could pick up…

He cut the thought off. He had never been one to run around before. He wasn’t a virgin, he wasn’t lonely, he had nothing against an occasional romp. He didn’t pay for it…

Okay, he paid for the room and typically a few drinks before hand or even dinner a few times, but…

But that was another thing that was heightened. Horniness had become his closest friend. Well, fuck that!

_Noooo…. Fuck THAT!_

He caught a glimpse of her, in his peripheral, just as she ducked into the shop. Dark hair and a flash of green eyes. A perfect ass with legs in tight cut offs…

The taxi chose that moment to whip around the corner, Sam almost falling from her tenuous perch. Reaper grabbed her just in time.

“Hey!” Reaper’s temper, normally restrained and kept under control, was loosened from its tight rein.

“Sorry! Sorry!” the driver called over his shoulder. “Dog in road!” Reaper hadn’t seen a dog, but…

“It’s okay, John.” Sam patted him, reassuring him. “You won’t let anything happen to me.”

“Don’t be so sure,” he muttered in response. “After a month of living together in tight quarters, I just might push you under the wheels.” He went back to inspecting the landscape. “Or you might push me under!”

Sam’s laughter echoed off the buildings.

~*~ 

JinJin was a rather dapper Brit, who oozed former military and old money long gone. He reeked of French Cigarettes. His movements, along with his speech, were clipped, short and to the point. He appeared to be genuinely glad to see the Grimm twins and he exuded British gentility. Reaper rather doubted his given name was ‘JinJin.’

The native stayed with the taxi while Sam graciously accepted JinJin’s hospitality, sipping a dark hot tea. Her brother wondered where she learned manners from! He hadn’t seen that coming! His attention was everywhere, not only keeping an eye out of the office’s front window for the taxi and their belongings, but the pedestrians, the buildings, the shadows… 

“John?” He snapped out of his musings to look at his sister. She had a three-ring notebook in front of her, opened up. Her finger was on a page with a picture of a rather exotic looking vacation home. “It has three bedrooms and a Jacuzzi-“

“How much?” Enforced vacation or not, someone had to pay for it and his paycheck wasn’t all that.

JinJin’s eyes darted back and forth between brother and sister. Somehow, this did not ease John’s mind. “You are not to worry. Whatever you choose is paid for.” His eyes darted back to Sam. “For however long you are to be here.”

“By who?” Reaper’s voice brooked no argument. His entire body was on alert, coiled taut. His C.O. was plenty nice, but he didn’t think his pay was that big either!

The Brit sat back, attempting to look relaxed and being anything but. He crossed his legs and brought the delicate bone china cup to his lips. “A third party who wishes to remain anonymous.”

Sam gasped and Reaper narrowed his eyes. “Start talking.” He leaned forward, bowed up, with his elbows on his knees, hands dangling, ready to pounce. He motioned for Sam not to speak, something he knew he’d catch hell for afterwards. “Who?”

JinJin took his time, mostly like to calm himself. John was ready to reach over and throttle him, but the man set his teacup down gently and looked him straight in the eye. “I have no earthly idea and I do not ask. As a retired Special Ops, I have learned to keep my mouth shut.” He smiled, dourly. 

“As I stated, anything you need is taken care of, no questions asked and you are to be left alone until such a time when you will be notified that you are… safe… to return home. I am your liaison. The two of you are not the first here to receive extended down time and I have not lost client yet.” Steel gray eyes locked into Reaper’s hazel ones. “I have no intention of losing one now. This is,” he nodded to Sam, “a safe haven.”

He reached inside his coat pocket – John wondered how he could stand to wear it in the heat – and pulled out an envelope. He slid it across the table between the twins, nodding when John reached for it before Sam. “You have a generous monthly budget for your living expenses – food for the most part. Your home and utilities are paid for. As this island is a remote tourist spot, I would suggest you mingle little with the other tourists. Almost all stay for only a week. They will not think twice about your life. The natives are not restless. They own and run the shops here; there is a small grocery, with standard fare. The goods flight comes in on Monday morning and I would suggest you stock up on the bottled water as the water on tap is not very palatable.” By this time, John had opened the envelope and was perusing the contents. One eyebrow was raised at the obvious generosity of whoever was hiding them. “There is one restaurant and a goods shop, a tourist trap. They carry fake artifacts from the jungle. Nothing on their shelves are worth the prices they charge. Of course, I do not tell the tourists that. You can also find books and magazines, typically a bit out of date. Newspapers as well. The natives are particularly fond of the New York Times and many a fight has drawn blood over the Dear Juanita column.” 

Sam now had her face planted in the palm of her hand. John couldn’t tell if she were laughing or crying. 

“This house,” JinJin tapped the page Sam had been looking at, “is a nice house. It has all the standard amenities, satellite as well as a security system. I would suggest you get your news from the satellite. I would not answer personal email from your known email addresses or log into any social media you might have until I am able to arrange a scrambler for you. Do not contact friends or colleagues. All contact and information will be through me.”

“Are we in danger?” Finally Sam came to life and John recognized the set of her shoulders.

“Danger? No. However,” he thought for a moment. “I believe your brother could better explain.”

“We left a mess, Sam.” John was looking at her. “We left a mess and quite a few people want answers that are best left unanswered.”

“They don’t believe us.”

“Oh. They believe us.” He flexed his hand, the one Sarge put the post through, fascinated by the tendons, the complete lack of damage or scarring. “They want to know what all we left behind or brought with us.” He turned his attention back to JinJin. “Anything else? What is there to do around here?” _I’m going to go stir-crazy in paradise._

The man continued on his obviously prepared speech. “The beach is a safe place to stretch your legs, as long as it’s not the main beach close to the air strip. I was warned that you-“ this was directed at Reaper, “-are particularly restless. There is quite a bit of privacy. There is a cliff that the occasional tourist will scale. The last one broke his leg when he fell. Ah. One last thing,” with this, he pointed straight at John, “do not venture deeply into the jungle. The natives do not like it.”

“The last thing I want to do is upset the natives.” Reaper’s tone was not serious, rather he was poking fun, sarcasm at its most glorious.

“Laugh all you wish, but no, they will not like it. We have not had anyone to disappear in some years, but it’s always messy business. The only person ever able to go in and out at will is Dr. Livingston.”

Reaper’s barely contained laughter threatened to burst forth. He didn’t notice his sister sitting straight up. “Dr. Livingston? You’re joking, right?”

“Livingston? Abigail Livingston?” 

JinJin had the decency to look confused. “Yes. Dr Abigail Livingston-“

“Is she on the island now?” This was the most animated John had seen Sam since he surprised her down at the Ark.

_When everyone was still alive._

“Yes. She’s been here for a year, doing a study-“

Sam was grinning from ear to ear. “We went to graduate school together; we were really good friends!” She smacked John in the arm. “She’s brilliant! A brilliant anthropologist and geneticist. I lost touch with her a few years back.” She suddenly snapped her mouth shut, looking at John and JinJin in horror. “Oh my God, I can’t contact her, can I?”

John was staring at his sister as if she had grown a second head. JinJin looked rather… uncomfortable. “Considering,” he started slowly, “that you are here for quite some time-“

“How long did they tell you?”

“A year. At least.” John’s hand hit the chair arm and Sam wheezed. “Considering that, it would be foolish for you to avoid her. She has the property next to this one. I will state she is reclusive and is only in town once a week for supplies and dinner. However if you knew her before, perhaps you will at least have someone you can socialize with. If you trust her.” He stood up, the interview obviously over. “Will this property suffice? If so, I will retrieve the keys.” He helped Sam up, who slowly made her way outside and to the taxi. JinJin touched John on the elbow, delaying him following his sister. “Check for bugs and other… things when you arrive. I doubt anything is there but…”

“I get it. Can’t be too safe.”

“Or too sorry.” He handed John the keys and shook his hand, showing him out the door.

_tbc_


	2. Cheeseburger in Paradise

_**The Vacation**_

_**Chapter 02**_

_**Cheeseburger in Paradise**_

“A year? A year?” Sam spun on him angrily once inside the house and Reaper heard the tendons pop. With a cry of pain, she pitched forward, her brother catching her just in time. He picked her up and set her gently on the couch, pulling cushions away and using them to prop up her knee.

“Look what you’ve done now,” he admonished, with absolutely no bite to his words. Five weeks previous, either one would have bit the head off of anyone saying that in the near future, the twins would let bygones be bygones and actually start acting like a family. “How much damage?”

“Oh,” she shooed him away, “I just pulled it. It will be fine.” She watched as he headed to the pile of luggage and began opening them randomly, searching, digging. “No, don’t do that! I don’t want…” Reaper held up a medical kit and waved it at her, “…shit! Please don’t.” She tried a different tactic. “Do you even know what you’re doing?”

Reaper had the kit opened and he pulled out a bag of syringes and the liquid painkiller. “I was the company medic, remember? So yeah I know what I’m doing.” He opened the bag and removed a single syringe, pulled the cap from the needle and inserted it into the bottle. Sam watched how he carefully measured the pull and then flicked the minute bubbles from the canister. Grabbing an alcohol swab, he grinned at his sister. “Cheer up! The Marines put my scientific training to work! Which hip?”

Her head hit the pillow. “NO!” 

“Portman enjoyed baring his skinny ass for me,” Reaper joked. “Believe me, I’ll get as much joy out of looking at yours as I did his.” At that point, he got up from his squat. “Which is none at all. Come on. Roll over. Let’s get it over with.” 

With a grudging snarl, Sam did as she was told, unlacing the top of her pants and baring the top of her cheek. She focused on the pattern on the back of the couch. There was a cold swipe, a fast jab and burn. “Damn! That hurts.”

“Sorry. Not my fault.” There was a moment of pressure, before she felt him rise from the edge and rolling over, watched as he put the cap back on the needle and then went into what she surmised was the kitchen. “Do you want a bandaid?”

“No.” 

“Don’t blame me if you get blood on your panties.” Reaper came back in the room and again began to peruse the contents of the suitcases, shoving them into two groups. 

“Why a year?”

John never looked up. “We left a mess-“

“Yes, I heard that, but we explained-“

Hazel eyes her girlfriends all fell in love with, to the point she often wondered if a female friend was sliding up to her for her friendship or a chance to date her brother, lifted to her prone and quickly relaxing body on the couch. “We left a mess. I threw a grenade in after Sarge causing unknown and unspecified damage to the Ark. That would be a nice way of saying ‘permanent.’ No one can find your downloads of the computer information and the computers there on the other side are lost to your employer. Irretrievable, irreplaceable information. Test subjects, lab rats, people, gone. They have no video, no surveillance, nothing but that tape you had of people screaming. The launch point is filled with dead bodies and rumors are running rampant of experiments gone wrong. However, the powers that be find it very interesting that the only survivors are a Marine and a scientist who strangely enough happen to be twins who have openly been estranged for years.” There was more, more to it, his own hypothesis, but he didn’t feel the need to alarm her, yet. Tomorrow or the next day would be soon enough for that.

Sam was watching him. “There are people who would use C24 for the wrong purposes.”

John had returned his search through their bags. “No shit! There are those who wouldn’t care about the negative side effects.” He found her e-reader and pulled it out, laying it to the side and then returned to digging. “There are ruthless scientists who would care nothing about the havoc they would unleash. It would be worth the glory. They would use me as a lab rat.” Finding what he wanted, he stood up and picked up what he set aside. “To make matters worse, the conspiracy blogs are having a field day. They say that the scientists there either woke something big, badass, and mean up or they woke something big, badass, and mean up and tried to experiment on them. They also are talking about the children of the couple that was killed almost 20 years ago going back to seek revenge and that those two are the two survivors.” Sam gasped at that. ”They want us out of the way and out of sight until things quiet down, until they can make up answers people will buy. I am going back into town to the store for some food and see if they rent old movies. Maybe the restaurant delivers. What’s your passion tonight?” 

Sam gave him a weak smile. It was almost like having her beloved brother back. He was trying, she had to give him that and while she was certain he would be driving her insane in the next few days, she appreciated the gesture. “Something vegetarian and Clark Gable.”

Reaper snarled, taking in her lank form. “You need a cheeseburger, Sam.”

“I don’t eat meat, you moron.”

“You will tonight.” With this, he handed her her e-reader. “Do you need to go to the bathroom? Need water?”

“No.”

He looked at her for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Fine. Do not get up. I’ll take care of this mess when I get back. Don’t answer the door. Stay quiet.” For a moment, Sam was afraid he would kiss her on the cheek. Instead, he winked and gave her that silly half-grin of his she secretly found adorable and left the room, the front door silently opening and shutting. She heard the key catch and lock.

“When I get better, I’m so going to kick your ass.”

Sleep quickly overtook her.

~*~ 

Reaper considered the old bicycle in the back of the carport with disdain. It looked – and probably was – fifty years old and had ridiculous wire side baskets. If Sarge – or worse Portman were still alive…

He shook his head. Didn’t matter. Didn’t fucking matter. The only person goading him was the imaginary voice in his head.

In the end, common sense ruled and he took it from the rack. The tires were in reasonably good shape and for good measure, he dinged the stupid little bell, rolling his eyes and praying he never felt the need to use it again. At least the thing wasn’t pink and didn’t have a banana seat!

It took all of five minutes to roll into town.

The restaurant delivered, thank God. He took pity on his sister and ordered the fish of the day, praying she wasn’t a complete veg-head. His next stop was the little tourist trap.

It was exactly that, with well-made and authentic looking fake jungle trinkets and carvings. Reaper fingered several, before making his way to the magazine rack. He knew Sam took French in High School, so he grabbed two or three French rags. They had a Guns n Ammo that even though he rolled his eyes at, he picked up anyway. He made his way to the cash register.

“Do you rent movies?”

“No rent.” The girl behind the counter looked bored and ready to go home. “You buy.”

“Fine.” There were no Clark Gable movies, but he found an old Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, as well as a Marilyn Monroe and ‘It’s a Wonderful Life.’

Oh, Sam would kill him.

It dawned on him that he didn’t know if the house had anything to play these on, but on second thought, he figured they could watch them on one or the other laptop computers they brought with them. Both were brand new, taken out of the boxes the morning of their flight and batteries charged when they left the States. Sam contacted the property management firm of the complex to give John the key to her condo to crash at right after they arrived back topside and it smelled locked up and musty. It had been no problem to retrieve her computer programs and all the discs, which were in one of the bags. They had plenty of work to do.

The grocery was surprisingly well stocked, for an island thousands of miles from anywhere. At least it looked better than K-rations or military cafeteria food, which was one flavor. Remembering JinJin’s warning, Reaper grabbed two cases of water and a case of beer, before looking for milk, (staple shelf milk. Gross.) cereal, and lunchmeat. On second thought, considering the options, it looked as if the restaurant would be getting his and Sam’s dinner business every night, unless Reaper took up fishing.

 _Shit. Fishing._

He checked out and started to scoop the bags up.

“Excuse me, but if you do that, you’re gonna squish your bread an’ break your eggs.” The accent was faintly Southern American and Reaper turned to see the vibrant green eyes and the gorgeous ass he caught a glimpse of earlier in the day. “Would you like some help?”

Reaper’s immediate knee-jerk reaction was to decline; luckily his hormones kicked in and stopped him. “Sure.” He grabbed the water and watched as she picked up the three bags of boxed goods and the one bag from the general store. As they went outside, John immediately cringed at the thought of trying to load all of it in those two baskets on that stupid bicycle.

“Sorry. I’m waiting for my jeep to arrive,” he kept his voice light.

“Ha!” The response was equally jovial. “No cars allowed here, so don’t go feelin’ nerdy with the main island mode of transportation.” She helped him with the bread and eggs. “I hope you don’t have far to go.”

“No.” He pointed towards the house. “Around the corner and up the hill, about five minutes.” He quickly described the house.

“Ah. You’re next to me.” She stuck her hand out. “I’m-“

It was out of his mouth before he knew it. “Dr. Livingston, I presume?”

Her smile quickly fell and she stood up, ramrod straight; a completely unimpressive height. “Not funny. How did you know-“

Reaper put his hand up. “JinJin told us you were our neighbor-“

“Our?” As quickly as she angered, she appeared to back down. “Ah, you’re here with your wife.”

Reaper barked in laughter. “Not hardly. I’m here with my sister. She’s rehabbing her leg from a serious injury and I’ve joined her.”

At this, the woman began to relax. Despite the people and the heat, Reaper could smell her scent; strangely familiar. “Ah. Sister. Nice brother.”

The half-grin presented itself. “I suspect she’ll hate me before the end of the week. Actually, she talked about inviting you over in a few days, once we get settled in.”

“Sounds like you plan to be here longer than a spell,” Abigail smiled. “That’s right neighborly. Neither one of you know me,” Dr. Livingston seemed perplexed, bothered in a strange way. This woman, Reaper surmised, did not like surprises or uncertainties. He could understand why Sam liked her; they were alike in that way. In most cases, John would have toyed with a person like this, much like he teased Sam, until she refused to speak to him for months at a time.

“My sister,” he whispered, “is Dr. Samantha Grimm.”

It took a second for the name to register. “Samantha? Sam is your sister?” She started snapping her fingers, forcing herself to remember. “Then you’re… John, isn’t it?”

The grin was back. “Yes, I’m-“

 _**!WHAP!**_

She hit him hard with her fist on his shoulder. It didn’t hurt, his tolerance for pain had always been high, but the Marines had beaten a tough shell into him and the C24 made him tougher. “YOU ASSHOLE! Do you have any idea how worried Sam was about you?” She turned her back on him, hands on her hips. “She said you had more potential than your parents and you ran off and joined the army!”

“Marines.” His fascination with this woman was dissipating quickly. 

But the scent became stronger, more enticing.

“Well now,” she spat over her shoulder, “at least you’re out. What do you do now?”

John threw his leg over the bicycle and backed it up and gritted through his teeth. “I’m a Marine.”

And with that, he turned his back, disgusted with himself, with her, his ardor cooled and rode off.

Halfway up the hill, he realized where he recognized her scent. 

It was the same scent the honeymooning couple had.

Sexual attraction.

~*~ 

Sam was still asleep when he entered the house. He set the bags and bottled water on the counter, put the beer in the refrigerator, except for two bottles that went in the freezer and did a quick recon of the house. The master bedroom was spacious and John was initially inclined to automatically deed it to Sam, but there was a large patio, which opened to a deck that was easy to access. That bothered him. Given her condition, she would be an easy target and victim.

The second bedroom was not quite as large but it had a private bath and balcony as well, with the advertised jacuzzi, however this one opened up to a cliff drop, so regardless of what Sam thought, this one was hers.

The third bedroom was smaller, more of an office. Perfect for the computers and other things. John recognized an alarm system. It wasn’t difficult to arm and Reaper suspected it would only keep the most elementary and simple of trespassers away.

He finished his quick walk through before going back into the living room and checked on Sam. She was still sleeping deeply; she would probably keep him up all night. While tearing through the luggage, he separated it, so he took hers to the room he designated for her and his luggage to his. He searched the luggage and rooms again, this more thoroughly, looking for electronic bugs and thankful he found none. He then gently carried her to her room.

He returned to the living room and replaced and straightened the cushions on the couch and then began a thorough search and investigation for bugs in the house. There wasn’t anything there, and he was glad he wouldn’t have to decide whether or not to yank or simply leave the listening devices in place and feed it false information. Dinner was delivered and after paying the boy and tipping him, he set it on the counter. For a moment, he stood in the kitchen, hands on the counter, staring at the food containers.

“It smells wonderful. What is it?” John turned to see Sam propped up against a wall, one crutch under her arm. 

Reaper opened the first Styrofoam container, revealing an over-piled cheeseburger with every disgusting thing known to man piled next to it. With a wry, but evil grin, John pushed it towards her. “I told you. I got you a cheeseburger.”

“JOHN!”

He smirked and pulled it back. “Fine. More for me.” She turned and hobbled back towards her room. “Sam! Oh, come on, Sam! I was joking!” He threw up his hands and followed her to the hall. “I got you a… fish dish.”

She stopped in her tracks. “What kind of ‘fish dish’?” she asked over her shoulder.

“I don’t know! It has some lemon pepper something on it.” She stopped and turned on him. “Really.”

One eyebrow went up. Slowly, she hobbled back. She managed to pull herself up into one of the bar stools and gingerly opened the other container. Reaper was then gifted with the rarest of prizes from his sister.

A smile.

“You did good, John. One problem.”

He scrutinized the light fixture for a moment. “You either want a beer,-“

“No.”

“-water-,”

“Would be nice, with ice, but no.”

“-or silverware. Sorry, but it’s Barbarian Feast Day.” But he turned around and started slamming drawers, in attempt to find some cutlery.

Three minutes later, the two sat side by side, eating together peacefully for probably the first time in their lives or at least, well over a decade. Sam did make a snide remark about the disgusting, dripping cheeseburger with jalapenos and Reaper retorted she could damn well eat her fish from the Styrofoam container – it wasn’t worth dirtying up a plate for. He then saluted her with his beer.

As the evening wore on, the two found themselves at the dining room table, respective laptops open and programs being loaded. During a long load for Sam, she managed to struggle up and gimping to the large picturesque window from the dining room, looked out over the wall, down to the beach. Lights from the lower homes cast a glow about that part of the island and to the right, lights from a home she guessed was her friend’s could be seen through the vegetation.

“John? This is lovely, but what are we supposed to do for a year?” There was a sudden chill in the room, as if the temperature dropped and she hugged herself. “I suppose I could learn to knit or something, but…” her voice trailed off. “I just can’t sit around and do nothing for weeks and months at a time.”

Reaper set the now second empty beer bottle down. Usually, he had a limit, and he was already buzzing as if he had drunk double. That was another side effect of the C24. “First off, you are going to heal. I didn’t risk my ass pulling you out of there alive, to watch you tear it up again.” With this he stood up and stretched. “I don’t see you learning to knit or doing any old lady stuff. You’re going to rehab, make that leg stronger…” He wandered off into her room, his voice raising as he ventured off, “…and you’re going to tell me how you messed up your leg! And why you have a condo when you’ve lived at the Ark for ten years! And why you opened the damned dig again!”

“And anything else?” Sam muttered to herself under her breath. Honestly! John could go on like a running toilet! She had forgotten about how he got when he was riled up.

“Stay put. I’m coming back out.”

“What are you doing?” She was mildly put out when he returned with the overnight bag she had with her on the plane.

“This.” He set the bag on the table. “As I said, you’re going to heal. You’re going to work that leg. You’re going to make nice with your friend Dr. Livingston, who by the way,” he pointed at his sister, “hit me while I was in town earlier because I joined _the army_ and upset you.” 

Sam’s jaw dropped. “What do you mean, she hit you? She doesn’t know you! You don’t know her!”

Reaper unzipped the bag and began to pull things out; makeup, toiletries… Sam recognized them as coming from her apartment. “I met her briefly at the grocery. She was afraid I would mash the bread, so she offered, in the cute little Charleston accent of hers, to help me. I let her. When I realized who she was, I introduced myself. She hit me. Aha!” He found what he was looking for and held it aloft.

“JOHN! Where did you get that?”

“I got this-“ he waved the rather impressive silver bullet vibrator, “from your panty drawer when I went to your condo to retrieve your computer programs and decided to add a few things you might like to keep you occupied,” he leered. “Although I would never think my straight laced sister would have a collection of adult toys. Yes, I brought the bunny with the rotating heads and beads too!”

“JOHN! You disgusting, perverted-“

“Creep. Whatever. Funny, I’m the pervert, but they’re your toys!” He shrugged at that. “Really, Sam! Anal beads? I would have never thought my straight-laced sister would have a collection of anal beads!” Privately, he was amused at her flapping jaw and decided that mentioning the butt plugs would be over-kill. “But this is what really interested me.” He turned it upside down and screwed the lid of the battery compartment of the vibrator off. “Again, as for what you are going to do to bide your time is make nice with your buddy, Dr. Livingston and talk her into ordering lab equipment in her name for you.” He turned the adult toy right side up and slid several things out of it into the palm of his hand. “I need to test my limits and you-“ he held up what he removed from the vibrator batter compartment, “need a lab rat.”

And with that pronouncement, he set on the table, two of the five flash drives that Sam had used to download the information from the company computers and the vial of C24.

_tbc_


	3. 03 - Flesh and Bone

_**The Vacation**_

_**Chapter 03**_

_**Flesh and Bone**_

“I need to test my limits and you need a lab rat.”

Sam stared in horror at the two flash drives and the vial of C24. She continued to watch stunned, as her brother then retrieved the aforementioned Bunny Vibrator and proceeded to extract the other three flash drives from its battery compartment.

“Just so you know, I packed batteries as well.”

Air escaped from her throat. Reaper took this as an invitation to ask questions. “Your condo is nice and I thank you for the use of it while you were in the hospital, but I’m curious. Why do you even have it? You were on Olduvai for what… ten years? I doubt you made a daily commute.” She slowly shook her head no. “So why bother?”

“I…I…” she watched as he extracted batteries from the bag and inserted them into the bunny and replaced the top. It was purple, huge and he turned it right-side up. 

Grinning evilly, he flipped both switches. With a nauseating hum, it lit up, the head and beads rotating and the bunny ears twitching at an incredible velocity. He flipped the switch again, the beads and head reversing direction and the bunny ears speeding up. Reaper’s grin was satiric; he placed it on the table, pointing it at Sam. “Will it come if you call it?” Painfully, the vibrator began crawling across the table like a drunk, crippled lizard.

“ACK!” Sam grabbed it and turned it off, attempting to hide it under the table. Mortified, she looked at her brother, who was chuckling in a way she had forgotten he could. 

“What man could compete with huge, rotates, and lit up?” He looked at her solemnly and shrugged. “I’m intimidated.”

“John,” her voice was pleading, much like it had been when he and Sarge pressed her as to what exactly was going on in that lab on Mars. “This stuff-“ she held up the flash drives and the vial, “needs to be destroyed.”

“Fine. Destroy it.” Reaper grimly whispered. “But once they realize what I am, they’ll dissect me.” He grinned, ruefully. “You made me this, Sam. I say we finish it together.” He watched as she inspected the flash drives, contemplating his words. “Or see if it can be reversed.”

Sam leaned back, inspecting the vibrator in her lap. “Let me think about this.” She idly scratched her forehead. “I’m going to need a lab, equipment…” her voice trailed off in thought. Finally, she set the bunny back on the table and leaned back. “I need to make a list-“

“Checkin’ it twice.”

“Stop that!” Sam scowled at him. “I don’t know what’s worse: Your badass Whoo ha act or your sense of humor!”

“That’s Whohah.”

A flash of memory hit her… Duke bending over what was left of Steve… Without warning, a tear slid down her cheek. Her hands covered her mouth, inhaling heavy gulps of air, trying to starve off the sobs. She wasn’t really aware of when the chair was pulled away from the table, or when John scooped her up. It wasn’t until he was making his way down to the hall to her room…

“John… John… I’m so sorry about your friends.”

He set her on the bed. “Your friends died too.”

“I know, but…”

John was now going through her suitcase. He pulled out a sleeper tee. “They weren’t my friends; they were part of my platoon. What memory set yours off?”

She hung her head. “Duke and I were doing the autopsy on Steve – only we didn’t know it was Steve. He asked me what you were like growing up.”

He tossed the sleeper tee on the bed, within her reach. “Somehow, I don’t think I’m going to like this.”

“I told him you were compassionate and empathetic.” 

Reaper squeezed his eyes as if in serious pain. “You did not-”

“Well, he said it was hard to believe and I informed him I knew you before all the Whoo ha stuff and he told me it was Whohah.” She raked her arm across her nose. “I liked him. I would have liked to have gotten to know him better.”

Reaper’s hackles immediately rose. In his opinion, Sam needed a scientist or a math or science professor as geeky as she was! He didn’t want to think about his sister with any of the men in his squad and that included Duke. John had kept himself aloof and apart from the men in his company and for a good reason. He might have considered Sarge his closest ally, but friends? No. Duke, while friendly and open, kept a bevy of women on a rotating basis. The thought of his sister becoming one of them…

“Duke was a flirt and a tease. He loved video games and women loved him. He loved them back.”

“You’re saying he was a player.”

“Big time.” Reaper immediately felt bad, seeing his sister’s face fall. “How long has it been, Sam?”

Teary eyes met his. “A long time, John. Years.” She sighed. “I’ve been married to my work for a long time.”

John thought back to the last relationship he’d had. Back when he first joined the Marines and it ended badly. He was gone too much and she needed a lot of attention. Since then, there had been women, but mostly they were one-night stands. He sometimes remembered faces; soft bodies, never names. “Me too. Hang on.” He left the room.

He came back a few minutes later with her crutches, a glass of water, and a pill, which he set on the nightstand next to her. “It’s a low dose tranquilizer. Take it. Please.” He stood up and reached into his hip pocket, setting the bunny vibrator next to her. “Try not to make too much noise.”

He left the room, while her mouth was flapping.

~*~

The next morning, Sam rediscovered why she hated riding on handlebars growing up. After breakfast, (eggs, extremely over well done, washed down with shelf-milk. Next time, Reaper thought, I’ll just wash them down with beer!) Sam found herself perched on the front of the bike; one crutch balanced behind her on the bars and screaming in terror at the top of her lungs while her brother decided the path was a roller coaster ramp!

“Damn you, John!” She was out of breath when they reached the bottom. “My ass is too big for this!”

“I wasn’t going to say that, but now that you mention it,” John deadpanned, “I thought we’d crash three times. I couldn’t see around you.” He was unimpressed by her angry glare. “Hey! You said it, not me and besides, what other way do we have of getting you anywhere?” He pushed off the road, wobbling down the path towards the beach. “Until you can heal up enough to ride your own bike, this is it, sis. I suggest you heal quickly.”

“I’m trying!”

It was quiet for a while; the only sound the birds and the squeaking of the turning wheels. They reached the beach. Reaper stopped the bike, hit the kickstand and helped his sister off. “We could shoot you up with C24.”

“NO!” It was shouted, emphatic.

“Ah. Good enough for me to get doped up and experimented on, but not you. I forget. I’m Danger Mouse!” He leaned over the back of the back and pulled the beach towels and sunscreen from the basket.

“You were dying!” For not the first time in recent weeks, her face was alarmed. “I was terrified! I would do-” she bit the sentence off.

“You would do what?” Reaper’s voice was dangerously soft.

Sam searched his eyes, looking for damnation, for accusation and seeing none. “I would do anything to save you. I couldn’t… I can’t let you die. You were bleeding out and I couldn’t watch you die! You are all I have left.” She turned and began to hobble down the beach, in the opposite direction of the few tourists. 

“Ah, but you were mad at me. We didn’t speak for ten years.”

“Just because I was mad at you, that doesn’t mean I didn’t love you,” she spat angrily over her shoulder. “I do, you know.” He caught up with her easily. “I couldn’t have made it this far without you. Thank you.”

She found herself caught by her elbow, halting her movement. Reaper came around her. “Say that again.”

Sam looked confused. “Thank you?”

“NO! I love you. Say it again!” He thrust the towels, the sunblock and the bottled water at her.

Unconsciously, she reached for the items, automatically searching his eyes, finding no… accusation lurking there. No emotion whatsoever, no subterfuge, only a simple searching, a question. “I love you, John. You’re my brother. I don’t understand you, I don’t understand why you do the things you do, I don’t understand why you make the choices you make, but I love you.” She swallowed hard. “I’m glad you rescued me. I don’t think I would have come out alive if you hadn’t and I… we would have lost this chance and time.” She inhaled. “There. I love you.” With that she ducked her head and marched off as best she could. 

How far she got, she didn’t know before her brother jogged up next to her. “Ah, you just love me because I remembered to pack your adult toys!” He laughed at her when she tried to smack him, dropping pretty much everything. “I heard you last night, you know.” He was now jogging circles around her. “Just sit here, I’ll be back. Love you too!”

And he ran off, calling behind him, “Duke! OH GOD DUKE YOU’RE SO BIG! DO ME! DO ME!”

Sam decided to just bury herself in the sand.

~*~ 

Teasing Sam was still too easy, Reaper chuckled to himself, as he jogged down the beach. He set a pace and looking at his watch, began to time himself before his heart rate went up.

The scenery of the island was beautiful and for not the first time, he made a mental note to explore the jungle that covered two-thirds of the island. He took in the cliff as he approached it, mentally making note of what equipment if any he would need to scale it. A stray thought flickered through his mind; if he fell, how long would it take for knitted bones to heal? When he ripped his hand from the spike Sarge was wearing, the healing had been instantaneous. There wasn’t even a scar. For not the first time, he wondered how long he had been out. One minute? Two? Had they reset the computer? He couldn’t remember. His memory of that part of everything was still a blur. 

He jogged around the rocks, the cliff rising up to his right, the surf pounding on his left. The tide was out, but from the seaweed line, it looked like coming back wouldn’t happen during high tide.

His pulse wasn’t pounding. He ticked up his speed a few notches. 

Reaper realized that the sea breeze was exhilarating; right now, he didn’t miss the smell of gunpowder or the smell of a spent magazine. Of course, that was _‘right now.’_ In a week, he might feel differently, should feel differently.

He reached the tip of the island, wondering how far he had gone. He checked his watch. By the time, his speed, five miles. He wasn’t even breathing heavy and he hadn’t gone all out yet. He turned around to return.

Suddenly, far off, he heard a sound, like a whistle. It was barely discernible, and Reaper didn’t think a ‘normal’ human being could hear it. He stopped, looked up and around. There appeared to be caves in this part of the cliff, completely inaccessible to the normal human being. For a split second, he thought he saw a head dive back in to one of the upper caves, so high off the ground. He stepped around, backing up, trying to get a better look.

Nothing.

Suddenly, he was worried about Sam, sitting on the seashore alone with a bottle of water. He broke out in a heated run, faster than his first trip.

He could feel the eyes on his back.

~*~ 

When he returned to Sam on the beach, she had peeled her tank and summer sweats and was sitting on the beach towel. He was alarmed at how thin and pale she was. She looked emaciated. 

“Not laying out?” Reaper’s top came off and he sank down next to her. He thrust a wrist over. “I ran 5 miles one way. Jogged it out and tore back.” 

She put her fingers on his wrist and waited. “You’re not even breathing heavy. 68.”

His look was concerned. “What’s hurting? Back or leg?”

“Back. I can’t stretch out.” Her hand found a small pebble and she flung it. “I couldn’t lay down last night. I slept propped up.”

The smell of suntan lotion rose between them as Reaper slathered it on. Sam didn’t know why he bothered; her brother always bronzed up like a sun god of sorts. “Why didn’t you tell me last night?”

Sam wasn’t even looking at him, preferring to stare into the water-filled horizon. “You would only give me a stronger tranquilizer.”

“I have muscle relaxers.”

“Same thing.”

The two were at a stand off. Reaper waited in silence, before getting up and straddling Sam’s injured leg, began to dig a tunnel down the side with his hands.

“What are you doing, Johnny?” The old endearment came out as a whisper.

“Gonna bury your leg, Sam. Let the heat of the sand sink in.” After a moment, she smiled at the sight he made; dirt flying like a mad dog with a bone, but eventually, her leg was buried and covered with warm sand, only her toes sticking out. He patted it much as one would pat down a sand castle. He returned to her side, his sunglasses back in place. “How’s that?”

“Feels good. Thanks.”

“Good. Now that I have you as a captive audience,” he laid down and propped himself on his side, looking up at her lopsidedly, “tell me how you injured your back and leg?”

Sam smiled, but grimaced. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me. How long was I out and how did you injure your leg?”

It occurred to Sam she could just clam up and say nothing. But her brother was stubborn enough to leave her here, buried in the sand. He could roll over and go to sleep, get up and leave her, go for another run. And what harm could it do now?

“It was quiet. I thought… I thought it was over…”

~*~ 

_I watched as my brother slid down the wall, his head bouncing on the floor. It was all I could do to keep from screaming; from cradling him. I thought I was too late, thought he was dead. I couldn’t bear it. His voice echoing… ‘Sam, I’ve done some bad things… you don’t know me…’_

_I know you. You’re my brother. Deep inside, I know you._

_And then he started twitching. That’s when I really got scared. I remembered what he said, about turning. I almost picked up his gun, but I didn’t believe it for a minute, not John, not my John… but he twitched and shook. And if he did turn and I was able to kill him, would there be enough bullets left for me? Without him, we were both doomed. I couldn’t… wouldn’t be able to make it out without him. I wasn’t going to leave without him._

_Time stood still, it seemed. Twenty minutes? Thirty? I remember watching the clock on the wall, but not registering the time. John trembled, mewled like a kitten at times… twice, I thought to get the gun._

_So focused on watching him, I didn’t realize until it was too late that someone or something was coming through the door. The things we stacked in front came crashing down, Sarge busting through._

_I immediately noticed the large wound on his neck._

_“Well, isn’t this a cozy scene?” He grabbed me by the hair of the head, pulling me up. He kicked the gun and the grenade away and looked down at John. Then he noticed the syringe and C24 bottle. “Good. It will be a fair fight then.” He dragged me from the room. “After seeing the blood,” there was an ugly blood trail that led him straight to us, “I was afraid this would be too easy!”_

_I began to struggle at that point. Anything to distract him, give John time. I found myself thrown across the room. “Bitch! Don’t fight! You’ll be too easy!” I came back up again and found myself tossed like a rag doll. Next thing I knew, he had me by the throat, slamming me over and over against the corner of the wall. I remember hitting the console, being body-slammed into the floor. I heard bones crack when he did that and somewhere, my back popped and not in a good way. I finally landed on the floor and I decided to play dead. It wasn’t hard to do._

_“Good girl. Little brother will come looking for you and I can finish this. Kill you all and let God sort you out… Objective and mission complete…”_

~*~ 

“At least it was only muscle, not my spine,” Sam whispered. “I figure you were out about 45 minutes. I have no idea how long I was out. I have never been so afraid of a human being in my life.”

“He wasn’t a human being at that point, Sam,” Reaper whispered. “He was a monster. That thing I killed wasn’t the Gunny I knew and respected. The man I respected was already dead.” With that, he laid flat on his back and appeared to doze off in the sun.

Sam relaxed, leaning back on her hands. She tried once to lie back, but her back was hurting so she ended up just reclining on her hands in a way.

“Why’d you keep the condo?”

The question came from nowhere. “We were made to go Earthside one weekend a month and two weeks every year.” Why she answered, Sam didn’t know. She supposed it was the heat making her lazy and drowsy. “I bought it a year before I got the job and I could just go there.” Sam lifted her chin to expose more of her neck. “They didn’t ask where we went and I could continue what I was working on there. I did look forward to eating out at Trader Joe’s Japanese Sushi bar however.”

A low sound resembling laughter rumbled from Reaper’s chest. “Funny name.”

“Good food.”

“Besides,” she elaborated, “it was the first thing I ever owned. I originally didn’t know if the job would last six months… a year. I wanted a place to go if the job ended suddenly.”

“You had stuff.”

Sam thought about her condo; small, painfully neat with wall to wall bookcases with history books, research manuals, old, old CD’s…”

“You had a lot of romance novels.”

“Geez John!” Sam sat up, making her back scream, “Did you go through everything I own?”

She couldn’t tell, but she had a feeling that the man behind the Baha Juan sunglasses was staring her down. “Pretty much.” Finally he sat up, got up and started gathering things. “My movement was pretty restricted, if you’ll remember. I infuriated your doctors, sat with you as much as they would let me, pestered you during rehab.” That he had. He goaded her, called her a pussy, was relentless. His bedside manner was nothing less than atrocious and he scared more than one doctor and charmed more than one nurse. He jogged in place next to her when she worked on the treadmill, goaded her, infuriated her… 

_C’mon Sam! Keep up! Our dead grandmother could run circles around you, in her coffin, you’re so fucking slow! What? You want to hit me, how are you gonna hit me if you can’t catch me, ‘cuz I’m not going to stand still!_

But then he sat next to her in her massage bath, watching the therapist, asking questions, endless questions, _show me, show me show me… let me try…_

_Tell me if I hurt you, Sam… I want you well… I need you well… you gotta keep up with me…_

“If I wasn’t at the hospital, driving the staff insane, I was being questioned by your bosses and mine. The only quiet time I had was when I was at your apartment and you didn’t have a single Guns ‘n Ammo or Playboy anywhere! There wasn’t a lot of choice in the reading material or the music! No porn on the cable.” Having folded everything in a neat pile, he unburied her leg from the sand. “Come on sis. Time to take you home, feed you lunch and put you in the Jacuzzi with a muscle relaxer.”

“I’ll be limp.” She let him help her up.

“As a fucking dishrag.”

“And I’ll probably be amenable to all of your questions.”

“More than likely.” That half-grin was back. “I vant to know, awl yor sekrits!”

Rather than ride, they slowly walked up the hill, in a comfortable silence, John pushing her on the bicycle most of the way.

~*~ 

Sam was in no condition to get in the Jacuzzi, much less anything else when they finally hobbled back into the house. John was joking about an old person’s scooter for her, only to be shocked at her pounding him on the arm in ire. They had a light lunch and he left Sam in her bed with her laptop, leaning sideways with her muscle relaxer. He jumped into the first things he saw – the shorts he wore the day before and a tee-shirt 

For not the first time, he cursed the fact there were no phones on the island, forcing him to jog into town to order dinner from the restaurant. This time, he did order the cheeseburger for Sam; she was too thin, looked like a skeleton in her swimsuit. If anything, the added protein would help. If he had to force-feed her, he would. The man who took his order raved about the steak, so he ordered that as well for him, to be sent up later that evening. Thinking ahead, he pre-ordered the next evening’s meal as well. Coming into town daily was quickly becoming a pain in the ass.

His last stop before heading back to the house was Dr. Livingston’s cottage. It was nestled into the canopy, trees and blooming things all around. It was dark, quiet, and strangely, it gave John the creeps. Unable to get an answer, he stepped away, deciding to come back the following morning. As he walked away, he got the same, crawly feeling on the back of his neck, that he was being watched.

~*~ 

“I do not like him.” The young native was dark and tanned and powerfully built. He spat to the side of the tree.

“He is one of us.” His companion, elderly, was no less powerful.

“He was not born one of us.”

“None of us were born this way.” The old man scrutinized his younger companion. “Your forefathers were created, as was he.”

“I don’t care. He is dangerous. We should-“

“We should leave things as they are and watch. You,” he pointed at the younger man with his chin, “would do well to not give in to your jealousy. It will not go well for you.” And with that, the two disappeared into the forest.


	4. It's my Job

_**The Vacation**_

_**Chapter 04**_

_**It’s My Job**_

“JOHN! I can’t believe you got me a cheeseburger!” Sam was pretty riled up. “I can’t eat this!”

“Why not?” Reaper calmly cut into his steak, making a mental note not to order it again unless they were eating in the restaurant. It was dry, over-cooked… on second thought; there was a grill by the Jacuzzi. Maybe next time he went into town, he should consider charcoal… what day did JinJin say the plane came in? Maybe they had stupid-ass ‘Kiss the Cook’ aprons…

“I don’t eat meat!”

Reaper set his steak knife down carefully and wiped his mouth. “Tonight, you are not a vegetarian. In fact, you can forget being a vegetarian while we are on this island.” He held his hand up to silence her pending outburst. “You weren’t a vegetarian growing up through when we started college together, so get over it. You’re too thin, to the point of looking anorexic and don’t give me this shit that it’s your injury because when I picked you up down at the Ark Facility, I could tell you were skin and bones.” He looked her dead in the eye. “Eat the cheeseburger. If you don’t, I’ll pull a Grandma on you and you’ll have it for breakfast, lunch and dinner until it’s gone.”

Sam looked at the burger with sheer disdain written on her face. Truth was, it did look good and her reason for becoming vegetarian in the first place was because of the guy – whose name she couldn’t remember – whose eye she tried to catch in grad school.

_What was his name again?_

Giving in, she began to pile familiar condiments on the burger. “My turn to ask questions.”

“I’m not a virgin.” Reaper pushed the over-done, tough steak away and attacked the whatever the hell vegetable was served with it. With his over excited taste buds, everything was either an explosion of flavors or a dud of drab. Tonight, it was a dud.

“Do you want me to eat this cheeseburger?”

The look he gave her had withered terrorists and made them piss their pants in the past. She was unfazed. “Ask away.”

“You have to answer them.” She stopped his retort before it left his mouth. “I answered yours about the condo and how I got my injury, play fair.”

She had him. Reaper shrugged and returned his concentration to the pile of vegetated mush.

“Why did you save the C24 and the flash drives and how did you sneak them out?”

Reaper shoved a forkful in his mouth and thoughtfully masticated it, attempting to find some flavor within the vegetation. There was none. Sam waited patiently for him to swallow. “After I blew up the Ark, I remembered that the C24 was in the floor of the storage room we barricaded ourselves in. UAC would definitely send in Hazmat or a cleaning crew and the last thing I wanted was for them to find it and start experimenting again; pick up where they left off.” He started pushing what was left of his food around his plate. “And they would too. They’d find a new scientist with little conscious and procure another criminal from death row and it would start all over again. So, I retrieved the C24, destroyed the syringe, washed the needle and glass bits down the sink, and then went to find you.”

“I don’t remember leaving.” Her words were mumbled, her mouth full of a dripping cheeseburger Reaper now wished he had ordered.

 _Bleh._ What was on the plate was inedible and Reaper picked it up, leaving the table. “You were passed out when I found you.” Entering the kitchen, he scraped the food into the trashcan, rinsed the plate and put it and the utensils in the dishwasher. He didn’t tell her seeing her pale and lifeless on the floor terrified him to his core. “I went to pick you up and realized the flash drives were in your pocket.”

“So you took them.” Her mouth was still full and dripping nastily. Reaper grinned. He was rubbing off on Miss Prim and Proper Manners With Her Pinky Up In The Air. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and returned to the table.

“Yeah. Those things should have been destroyed and you had them with you.”

“Your commander,” she finished the last bite and began to inspect her fingers, sticking them in her mouth and obviously relishing the grease from each one, “made it clear,” _smack_ “that they were to be brought,” _smack_ “back. I had no doubt at the end,” _smack_ “he would kill me for them to bring them back.” She stuck two fingers in her mouth.

_You’re right, Sam. He would have._

Reaper watched her as she finished licking her fingers with a perverse glee. “He would have. There was no way to dispose of the stuff and if I left the drives on you, someone would have taken them, so I took them.” Out of sheer habit, he removed her now empty plate and cleaned it as well. “I put them under my body armor before I called the elevator down to take us back up. By the way, don’t ever call me disgusting again. Do you want anything to drink?” 

“A beer.” Reaper raised his eyebrows at that, but he opened the refrigerator door and pulled one out for her. Popping the top, he set it on the table in front of her and sat back down.

“Bottom line, you mentioned reversing the effects and the only way you and I will be able to do that is to have the information.” He shrugged. “So I took them.”

Sam took a swallow and then began to toy with the bottle, slowly peeling the label from it. “If UAC finds out we have this stuff, we will be in serious trouble.”

“Oh, you have no idea.” Reaper was going through his beer faster than anticipated and he set it down.

“John?” Sam’s voice was quiet. “How much trouble are we in?”

Reaper turned the bottle, around and around. Even at arm’s length, he could read the small print on the label. “Do you know who was funding Carmack’s work?”

“UAC.”

“Duh! Who funded UAC?” He could sense her blinking, thinking. “C’mon Sam. Think.” He got up from the table, leaving the beer bottle sitting. He meandered to the table where the laptops were set up. Picking through the flash drives, he inserted one.

“There were… several private companies, stockholders-”

“Think, Sam. Who funded Carmack? Who could have possibly provided him with a convicted felon, sentenced to die, a human test monkey no one would care about?” On the screen of the laptop, the video from Carmack’s lab, showing the monster changing… “What company, stockholder could possibly provide him-”

“Damn!” Sam ran her fingers through her hair, pulling it back. “The government!” 

Reaper, using his index finger and thumb to make an imaginary gun, pointed it at his sister and with his thumb, shot it. “Bull’s-eye.” Something caught his eye out the picture window and scowling, he closed the video, removed the flash drive and closed down both computers. While they were powering down, he scooped up the flash drives and the bottle of C24. “We are getting ready to have company.” He leaned closer to her, almost whispering. “Someone likes us, Sam. Someone in UAC or a Senator, General, I don’t know who, but they are keeping us out of the way because someone wants this,” he shook the stuff in his hand, “really, really bad and if they find out we have it? Our asses are grass. We’ll be gone and no one will ever find our bodies.” He took off down the hall to his room, drawers opening and closing. “Tell her a lie, tell her the truth, but don’t tell her what we have or about Carmack, got it? Don’t get up, I’ll get the door.”

The doorbell rang and Reaper opened the door to let Abigail Livingston in.

~~~...~~~ 

Abigail Livingston was prettier than he remembered. He liked she did nothing to enhance her looks; no make up, no perfume, he doubted she was wearing a wonderbra, at least he hoped she wasn’t wearing one. Push-ups were like lying and there was nothing more disappointing than taking a woman’s bra off, only to discover the nice handful you were looking forward to, wasn’t a handful at all! Her dark hair was tied back in a ponytail and he wondered what it looked like down, how it would feel falling through his fingers. She smelled faintly of sweat, insect repellent and that tangy scent he lazily thought of as sexual awareness.

Sam greeted her as a long lost sister, demanded her Neanderthal brother get her a beer, why don’t we have wine? Reaper rolled his eyes and grabbed a bottle from the suddenly emptying box in the refrigerator. Rather than sit and be forced to listen to frilly girl-talk (which honestly was as bad as listening to Portman talk about his beloved she-boys) Reaper made his way out onto the main balcony off the living room. It had a quiet view, over-looking the beach and ocean, with a sturdily built awning and overhang that shaded it for the better part of the day. It was large and without thinking, Reaper peeled his shirt off, thinking to move the grill from Sam’s Jacuzzi balcony to here and reaching up, grabbed the support beam and began to do repetitious chin ups, his mind racing in about twenty different directions.

~~~...~~~ 

“What did you do to your leg?”

Sam took a breath and a swig of her beer. _Definitely make John get wine next time he went into town. This is embarrassing._ “Skiing accident.”

“Bull shit.” Abigail took a swig from her beer and set it on the coffee table, making sure to pull a coaster from the stack. “We’ve been close friends far too long for you to lie to me now.”

Sam watched John through the closed, glass door, aware that her friend was watching as well. He had taken his shirt off, giving the two of them a wonderful view of his back. Abigail’s breath hitched when he reached up and began to exercise, the muscles in his back, corded and pulled taut. 

“Samantha,” Abigail began again gently, her eyes never leaving the show unknowingly being performed for them through the glass, “I don’t know a single employer that will allow an employee months and months off to vacation at a resort island just to rehab a leg.” She picked up the bottle and took a swig. “Especially one who does what you do, as well as how you do it.” She again contemplated John through the patio doors. “UAC’s reputation isn’t that lenient.”

Sam said nothing.

“I know you were working at the Ark. You called me to tell me, you were so excited. You were worried your brother wouldn’t handle it so well.”

Uncomfortable, Sam pushed back on the sofa and tucked her good leg under her. “No, he didn’t handle it well at all.” She glanced back outside, noticing the light sheen of perspiration beginning to bead on John’s back. She should be counting, timing, taking notes. “We didn’t speak for years over it.” His pace was consistent, showed no signs of tiring. 

“You two were the only survivors, right? One scientist and one Marine.”

“Yeah.” Sam’s response was a whisper and as much as she didn’t want to, the memory of her brother, bending over her, his face full of concern, before Sarge arrived at the end, still haunted her. She shook it off. “Honest, I’m glad he came. I wouldn’t have gotten out alive had he not shown up.” She took the last swallow from the bottle. “We were lucky.”

It was quiet for a time, the two women gazing at the one beautiful specimen of manhood outside, working out and unaware that he was being watched. “Look, if you don’t want to talk about it, I understand.”

Sam looked at her friend. She wanted to confide in her, tell her everything, if for no other reason, to get a second opinion on helping John, but…

_Tell her a lie, tell her the truth, but don’t tell her what we have or about Carmack, got it?_

“Thanks. I’ll keep it in mind. I can’t right now. It’s too close and too fresh.” Her head dropped. “Someone… I really liked died in front of me. It’s hard.” She smiled lamely. “So tell me, what has you here on the island? JinJin said you were studying the natives.”

Abigail’s attention wasn’t on Samantha; rather she was watching John, who was still doing chin ups. “How long can he last?”

“I have no idea. The Marines made him hard.” Samantha watched her friend, before reaching over and smacking her on the leg. “Stop looking at him like he’s the Last Supper! He’s hard enough to live with.”

Abigail’s look was definitely appreciative. “Does he have any clue the effect he has on a woman’s hormones?” she whispered.

“I don’t know, but don’t tell him.” Samantha set her bottle down with a decisive ‘thunk’. “He has broken too many of my girlfriends’ hearts, so watch yourself.” She snapped her fingers. “Here! This will cool your ardor! You know, my fondest memory of him growing up was when we were three and he would run through the house, naked as the day he was born, with the exception of a towel-cape, singing the Batman Theme!” 

Abigail glanced at her sideways. “Nana nana nana nana.” Samantha joined her, “Nana nana nana nana BAAT-MAAAAAAAAN!”

There was a thud and both women looked up to see John had dropped from the overhang and saw them gawking at him. His entire body was covered in a fine sheen of sweat and he was staring at them in mild ire. With the door closed, they couldn’t hear the question, but his mouth was easy to read. 

_.What?_

Both women saluted him with their beer bottles and waited until he turned his back and started again. Covertly, Samantha checked the clock, checking the time he started.

“I’m studying the natives.”

“That’s what Jinjin said.” The bottle was empty and Samantha really didn’t want another. How John, or any man for that matter, could guzzle beer after beer was beyond her. “What could be so interesting about them to keep you here a year?”

“They’re amazing!” Abigail immediately warmed up to the subject and took her attention from John. “They’re intelligent, smart, incredibly agile and fit, but the most amazing thing is,” she leaned over and whispered, “they don’t die of illness or injury. They are extremely long-lived.”

Samantha’s heart dropped. “No illness?”

“No. No illness. Ever!” Abigail’s voice became extremely animated, excited. “It’s not even a concept. They pick up languages as if it’s second nature, all of them speak English as well as most other languages and they understand every word, no miscommunications. They read and write, even without modern technology in the jungle, they are up to date on current events. They treat the newspapers and journals that are brought into the goods store like the bible. They inhale them; study them, converse about what is going on. I can’t understand a word of their chatter; they won’t teach it to me, just laugh. But…” and with this, her voice tapered off. “Some months back, I was with a group of them, fishing. One was attacked by an angry monkey; I swear it was rabid. The monkey bit him deeply several times. I saw the blood, the wounds. They killed the monkey and Isanti bathed off in the creek.” She shook her head. “He came out of the water, complete unscathed. Not a scratch.” She picked up her beer bottle and took a drink. “I asked him about the injuries and he laughed; said I was imagining things.”

Samantha couldn’t breathe. “Have you been able to get blood samples, anything?”

Abigail shook her head. “No. They get irate if I mention blood sample, tissue sample, nail clippings, anything.” She nervously tapped the glass neck on the bottle she was holding. “I’m afraid to ask any of them to pee in a cup. I’ve explained that I’m trying to find a cure for diseases they seem immune to. Santoso laughs at me and tells me they are like any other man, but if I don’t find something soon, I’m afraid my funding is going to run out.”

“Do you have a time limit?” John’s voice broke through. They hadn’t heard him come in through the door. He stood in the glow of the sunlight, his tee-shirt clutched in his hand and the faint scent of perspiration hanging in the air. “Who are you working for?”

Abigail didn’t miss a beat. “Columbia University and Wainright Pharmaceuticals. I’m a standing professor at the university on paid sabbatical leave to study the indigenous peoples here. In fact, I don’t teach per se, I’m paid to study different cultures and write the textbooks. I’m more an honorary lecturer with office bennies when I’m there. I contacted the pharmaceutical company after I realized the natives here have unique healing abilities. They are interested in finding a cure for cancer, the common cold even, anything. They more than understand that research such as this takes time and they’ve not given me a limited time frame. However, I won’t be allowed to stay here forever without something for them to work with.” She took the final swig from her bottle and set it down. “They send their children to the school here, taught by European-trained natives. They seem to go through the motions to keep others from delving to far into the jungle. Apparently, many of them are sent to Europe, to the States to attend college, further their learning. I don’t know how they do, but it’s as if they are fulfilling a hobby?” She stood up and stretched, something that interested John immensely. “Eventually, they come back, laughing about the normal people they meet. They are exceptional, they know they are exceptional and it doesn’t bother them that rather than take their place in society, they prefer to live in huts, secluded in the jungle.” She resumed her normal posture. “I can’t begin to imagine how they could affect the world if they left the jungle, entered society. What a difference they could make.”

John was wiping the back of his neck with his tee-shirt. “What is it with scientists?” He padded into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water. “Not everyone wants to spend their life with their eyes in a microscope, looking at little bugs.”

“Not everyone understands how someone with the ability to make a difference looking at little bugs in a telescope, would rather look at a potential target through a sniper scope!” Sam retorted.

John smiled and it wasn’t nice. “Touché.” He toasted her with his bottle. “Some of us want to make a difference immediately and not ten years down the road.” With that, he stalked off to his room, the smell of clean sweat wafting after him to his room. “Ladies. I’m off to shower. If anyone wants to wash my back, speak now.” He slammed the door to his room, the sound echoing through the house.

It was if the air was sucked out of the room. “How long are you stuck here with him?”

“Six months? A year?” 

Abigail whistled low. “Good luck with that.” She picked up her empty bottle and put it in the trashcan. “When you want to talk about why you’re hiding and who you’re hiding from, I’ll listen. We should get together; get you out of the house and talk. I do try to go into town on Friday nights.” She smiled. “Not much of a nightlife, most here are honeymooning or second honeymooning, but I could set you up with a gorgeous native if you’re into that sort of thing.”

“I would like that,” Sam was breathing a bit easier. “I mean the Friday night dinner thing. The only problem is our only transportation is a single bicycle and I hate riding on the handle bars.”

With that Abigail laughed, the sound echoing through the house and into a dark room, where the sound bathed over someone trying not to eavesdrop. “I have a golf cart I never use you can have at your disposal for as long as you need it. I’ll bring it up and pick you up on Friday for dinner. Tell your brother,” she headed towards the door, “if he can behave, he can go with us. Tell him to put on some decent clothes. He’s too hot for words.” With that, she opened the door. “Oh, you might want to reconsider the natives. The women tell me they are kept very happy.” And with that, she stepped into the dusk.

Samantha shook her head, before hobbling over to the door with one crutch and locked the door. She turned to see John, still in sweaty shorts, standing in the darkened hallway.

“Make nice with her, Sam. Help her, make copies of everything.” He turned, so she wouldn’t see his hard on. “Her ‘natives’ might have the answers we need.” With that, he went back into his room and shut the door.

In the dark, he stood by the window, overlooking the drive and down over Abigail’s home. The power of her scent, her own unanswered need, was now driving him over the edge, the edges of his vision turning red. Snarling, he could see her dimming form going down the road in the shadows. Unconsciously, he reached down, grabbing himself, taking matters into his own hands, and too quickly spilled the seed of his very being across his palms, spilling, dripping onto the sweaty tee-shirt at his feet on the floor, the crimson haze receding on the perimeter of his eyes, fading with his immediate desire.

He picked up the discarded piece of clothing, wiped his hands and then headed towards the shower.


	5. 5 - Peanut Butter Conspiracy

__

The Vacation 

__

Chapter 05 

__

Peanut Butter Conspiracy 

She now understood, why they called him ‘Reaper.’

It had nothing to do with the whole last name, Grimm part, not at all. It had nothing to do with simplistic, juvenile, puerile Marine humor, nope. It was because physical therapy with John… _Reaper_ …Samantha decided, was hell on earth.

He pushed, he pulled, he prodded, he made her hurt, made her do it again and again and again, told her it was supposed to burn. He called her names. Vile, filthy names. If their grandmother were alive, she would have killed him.

She reminded him she was not a Marine. He said he knew that. If she were a Marine, he wouldn’t be so nice, so gentle.

Yeah. Nice. That’s what he said.

_Prick._

She almost begged for the damn shot. Almost. He probably would have denied her anyway. He was a mean son of a bitch that way.

So after an hour of repetitive living hell, Reaper finally gave her a break, helped her to her room and tossed her bathing suit at her. “It’s Jacuzzi time!” He headed towards the door. “Better hurry because I’m getting in too and I might not knock!” He shut the door.

Sam looked at the stringy two-piece she did not buy. “Bastard.”

“I HEARD THAT! THANK YOU FOR THE COMPLIMENT!”

Sam decided right then that she was going to power up the bunny and be particularly loud tonight. She just might even call out Sarge’s name, just to get him back.

Or Portman’s.

~*~ 

John was kind; he knocked fifteen minutes later, carrying two bottles of water and the Tylenol 3. Getting into the jacuzzi was not fun and she suspected getting out would be equally difficult. The vacation was already officially over and the two of them began to discuss their options and what John was calling ‘the game.’

“Why did you open the dig, Sam?”

She stared at him through her sunglasses. “We’ve had this discussion.”

“No, we haven’t.” His voice was terse and Sam knew she wasn’t dealing with her brother at this juncture, but a drill sergeant, something, she suspected, John was very good at. “I came back from a mission to an email that you were going to Olduvai.”

“And I got an explicative-filled email in return!” She pulled her sunglasses down over her eyes. “There were more curse words than not.” She took a drink from her water, relishing the coolness of it down her parched throat. “I had no earthly clue you could curse like that!” John snorted at her raised voice. “UAC hired me and assigned me to Olduvai, to analyze old information that was collecting dust. When I got there and they were talking about reopening the dig, I questioned it.” With her sunglasses down, John couldn’t tell if she were glaring at him or staring off into space. 

“Not hard enough, I bet.”

“I wouldn’t have agreed to it if it wasn’t safe!”

“Well, it wasn’t safe, was it?” With that, Reaper shot up, water flung from his body, splashing his sister. In obvious fury, he stormed from the jacuzzi and dropped behind her, beginning a cycle of push-ups. 

“It was safe!” Sam turned, trying to maintain eye contact. “Every stone, every step was monitored, measured, everything was backed up! No one went anywhere remotely dangerous until robots had gone in, reinforced-”

Reaper stopped midway up, his muscles bulging. “If it was so damn safe, how come what happened happened?” He resumed the push-ups.

“Would you _please_ stop that?” Sam was completely exasperated. “I would love to have an honest to God rational discussion with you and I can’t if you’re exercising and screaming at me!”

“I’m not screaming.” Reaper did three more repetitions, before bouncing up and slamming himself angrily back into the water. He grabbed his bottle with one hand and gestured with the other. “Well? Discuss.”

Samantha was staring at him with pure disgust. “You are such an asshole!”

Reaper lifted a single eyebrow. “And you whine about my language.” He emptied the water bottle and set it down. “So we’ll try again. What possessed you to reopen the site?”

“I didn’t reopen it!” The glare John gave her was enough to tell her he didn’t quite believe her. “I didn’t reopen it,” she repeated, only softer. “I didn’t. Honest.”

“Who did?”

Now, it was going to get dicey. She knew it, wondered if her brother would come after her. “Dr. Miklosis.”

“Who?” 

“Dr. Miklosis.”

John was thinking, thinking hard. “I don’t recall him being there.”

“He wasn’t. He was topside. Earthside.” She hung her head. “He’s one of the top scientists for UAC.”

John was still thinking, toying with his empty bottle. “If he was up on the planet’s surface-”

“He gave the order to reopen the dig. He told me to do it. I refused unless certain conditions and criteria were met.” She struggled to look her brother in the eyes, hoping, praying, he would see the desperation, the truth in them. “I demanded backup, safety precautions, robot explorers. He met them all.” She finished her bottle of water and set it gently to the side of the pool. “He came down. He reopened the dig site. Went through everything, the safety precautions with me, my team, the robotics.” She sighed heavily. “Every demand I made, every problematic scene I tossed up, he met, he counter-weighed.”

“Sam-”

“Dammit, John!” She smacked the wooden siding. “It was the chance of a lifetime. A dream opening, what it would do to my resume! If I passed it up, someone else would have done it, maybe not have cared as much!” She was pleading and he could hear it in her voice. “It was the chance of a lifetime! Opportunities like this do not come every day or even twice! What was I supposed to do? Pass it up? Take a bye? Tell Miklosis, thanks but no thanks? I couldn’t do that! It was what I was trained to do! What I was-”

“Born to do,” Reaper finished quietly for her. “I get it.” He shook his head, looking out over the balcony and into the jungle.

They were being watched.

“It was still a stupid move.”

“JOHN!”

“How does Carmack figure in?”

“I don’t know.”

“Sam-”

“I don’t know! Honest!”

Reaper slid through the water, his movement sinuous and within a breath, he was literally on top of her, totally over-powering, his arms braced on either side. “What did Carmack have to do with the dig?”

Sam bowed up. “We’ve discussed this! He had lab animals. I had the inter-office emails stating there were not to be human experiments. Just the animals. My work and his did not correspond. I had no idea.”

Reaper resumed his original seat on the other side of the jacuzzi. The hair was still up on his neck; he could feel someone watching them. “You didn’t know anything.”

“Nothing. Honest. I swear.” She was clenching her hands. “Had I know what he was doing, I would have said something. Put a stop to it.”

_You couldn’t have stopped it. Someone else was pulling the strings._

Sam’s skin was starting to prune up, so Reaper stood up and held his hand out. “Come on. You’re looking like an old lady and I worked your ass. Let me help you out of here and into bed.” He smiled winningly. “You can take a nap.”

“John,” she stood up and gasped when he scooped her up and set her gently on the top of the balcony floor, “I don’t know-”

“If the Tylenol isn’t working, I’ll give you a shot. You want it. Your mind screamed it during your rehab.”

Some minutes later, after she had changed and yes, she agreed to the muscle relaxer in the form of a needle, she rolled over with the body pillow on her bed.

“Johnny?”

“Hmm?”

“What do you remember?” Her voice was getting softer.

“Remember about what?” Reaper was expecting what he remembered about morphing.

“When Mom and Dad died. You were there. You had a better…”

In the shadows of the room and her vision, she couldn’t see his face. It was quiet for some moments and Sam thought he wouldn’t answer her. Finally…

“Just dust.” He walked to the balcony and locked the sliding glass door, putting the pin in place and then shut the curtains. “The platform fell and there was dust.”

_Screaming, yelling, and then silence._

“Lots of dust. That’s all I remember. Go to sleep.” John left the room and quietly shut the door.

In the afternoon heat, John sat down at the dining room table with his laptop. He surfed the news, the blogs… nothing in the news about the Ark, the failed mission. The blogs, especially the sensational conspiracy blogs were alive and well. He did a search for Dr Miklosis, found preciously scant little; just his name on an employee list, head of a department here and there. He then looked for Abigail Livingston; found her social sites, her web page at the college, several professional thesis, and doctorial papers. He whistled low, impressed with her knowledge and ability to make the mundane interesting. Typically, this shit bored him to tears, all the technical jargon and slow moving experimentation. It was monotony and the desire to help someone _now_ that caused him to drop out of college, drop his scholarship, his funding, his relationship with his sister, to join the Marines. The need to do something, accomplish something, now.

But Abigail was anything but technical or slow moving…

After perusing the porn sites, he went to his room and retrieved a blank notepad and pen from his suitcase and the flashdrives from his drawer. Unlike his sister, who had unpacked everything, all of his belongings were still in the luggage, ready to go at the drop of a hat.

Habit.

He took the laptop out on Sam’s balcony and putting the notepad on the table next to him, he put in the first flash drive and began to take notes. Whoever was watching him… them… would know he was watching them, whoever _them_ was, back.

~*~ 

Sam slept for some hours. Reaper chaffed at the thought of her sleeping so much, however sleep helped the body heal. For not the first time, he toyed with the idea of shooting her with a dose of C24, but he didn’t want to put her through the hell he not only remembered of the thought, when the needle floated so close to his arm, but what he was going through right now. It was if every nerve, every thought of his being stayed on tap.

And the constant need for some sort of stimulation; physical… mental….

Sexual…

While in the RRTS unit, Reaper prided himself on his self-control. There was no privacy, no five minutes to yourself, unless you were allowed off-base for an evening of R and R. Those times were few and far between. On occasion at night, one heard things, usually Portman, sometimes Duke or Mac and on rare occasion, if you listened, Goat. (Although, truth be told, if you watched him closely, the next day, you could tell if that one had taken matters into his hands by the amount of self-punishment he put himself through.) There were times, while with the unit, Reaper found himself desirous of Sarge’s position; specifically his small, private quarters and miniscule personal bathroom and for not the first time, he wondered if he himself would get a promotion upon his return.

_.If he were allowed to return._

That was another problem and question and one Reaper didn’t really want to contemplate at this time.

Sam woke up just about the time dinner arrived. Foreseeing the workout, he had ordered what ever came out of the ocean that day for her, as he rightly guessed he had pushed the cheeseburger issue the evening before. He would push it again and often, but he had learned that sometimes rewards worked in your favor.

After dinner, the two of them went over the notes he’d taken on the one flash drive he had gone through. Reaper’s notes were decisively short and small, causing Samantha to look twice.

“This was from Carmack’s server?” she questioned. “It has to be. It’s mainly an overview of the research notes from the animals in the lab.” She continued to scroll and open folders, Reaper hanging over her shoulder, watching the computer screen. “I remember loading this one. It said it was full, but this…” She went back to the main screen, pulling up the properties. True to Sam’s memory, it was full, but as she returned to the folders, the property numbers didn’t add up.

“That’s weird.”

“No it’s not.” Reaper pulled up a chair next to her. “There are hidden folders.”

Quickly, Sam closed the folders and inserted another flash drive, also from Carmack’s lab. Like the other, it too seemed to have hidden, invisible folders.

As did the third.

“Isn’t it funny, Sam,” Reaper whispered in her ear. “Your server took one, the second took one, but Carmack’s took three and the majority of what is on them is hidden?”

Sam was tapping the table with a single fingernail irritably. “Yeah, but… it doesn’t make sense.”

“It makes perfect sense, Sam.” Reaper leaned back and stretched. “Carmack was hiding stuff, stuff only certain people needed access to. I suspect,” and with this, he tapped the screen with a single digit, “getting the other stuff was a ruse. Whoever ordered the retrieval of the servers was really only interested in Carmack’s research.”

“Well, I got mine too!”

“Good girl.” Reaper rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Hmmmm. Trying to remember…”

“Remember what?” Sam was now curious as to what was hidden. 

“I wasn’t the computer specialist of the team, but I recall Mac saying there was a way to unhide folders.” Reaper was deep in thought, before snapping his fingers. “I remember now. Destroyer had a virus that hid his folders on his harddrive and he had to download a special program to unhide them. Mac sent us all links in case it happened again.” He started to pull up his email on his laptop, before slamming the table with his hand. “DAMMIT! I almost forgot!”

“Forgot what?”

“No accessing known private email until we get a scrambler. Dammit!” He shut the lid to his laptop. “We’ll just have to wait until that thing gets here. Guess, I get to go into town to rush Jinjin tomorrow.”

“Or,” Sam quietly interjected, “we can work with what we have and wait until Friday. Abigail has invited us to join her for Friday dinner, if you can behave and if you promise to dress properly.”

“She was bothered by my hawt physique and exercising, eh?” Reaper’s grin was boyishly rakish. 

“You are incorrigible and I refuse to feed your ego!” Sam shut her computer down as well. “This is giving me a headache. How about we check out those movies you bought and see how that plasma tv on the wall works.”

John found microwave popcorn, God only knew how old it was, in the cabinet over the microwave and pulled two beers from the refrigerator for both of them. They then ensconced themselves comfortably on the couch, John sitting up on the far end and Samantha stretched out, with her head in his lap and watched the Fred Astaire movie John had gotten her. He even gave her the remote to prove to her that men _could_ share power.

He was asleep of the tediousness within five minutes.

~*~ 

It was quiet for sometime on the balcony. The Watcher waited, gazed at the movement in the room. He stared as The Woman changed clothes, completely unaware her nudity was seen. She was injured, that was obvious in the way The Changeling catered to her and cared for her. She wasn’t the problem. He waited until The Changeling returned to the room and closed the drapes. He didn’t understand their relationship. They cared for each other, love… yes, there was love there, but they were not lovers. Strange for these people of Earth. 

But then he showed back up, with an electronic pad and for some hours, he watched it, watched whatever was on it. He would routinely check on The Woman, sit back down with another bottle of water, and continue. Finally, before the sun set, he returned inside the house, taking great care and making show of locking up. Ah, the Watcher could tell, the Changeling knew, knew he was under surveillance. 

So he waited. Waited until the man from town showed up with bags that even the Watcher could smell from his place in the tree. When there was total silence, he climbed the cliff and dropped soundlessly onto the balcony. There were two empty bottles – one on the side where she sat and one on the table, forgotten by the Changeling. The Watcher tiptoed on cat’s paws and picked the one the Changeling drank from up. He sniffed it carefully, capturing the scent. It was pungent to his senses, the differences in him – he refused to think of him as ‘a man’ – obvious even in the Changeling’s residual saliva. He set it down carefully, so as not to be heard.

The Changeling – John. She called him ‘John’ – was smart. He knew he was being watched. He was strong too. Having seen enough for now, the Watcher went back over the side and scrambled down the cliff. 

When he reached the bottom, he looked up towards the house again. The Changeling would have to die. He was dangerous. He was not one of Them. He was… wrong. The Watcher’s eyes turned blood red for a few moments before returning to their normal color. He would be hard to kill, but he had to die.

~*~ 


	6. Cowboy in the Jungle

__

The Vacation 

__

Chapter 06 

__

Cowboy in the Jungle 

The jungle was dense.

John stood at the edge, the beach and the ocean breeze to his back. Jungles had never fascinated him; they were dangerous places, thick with vegetation, which hid shy things, dangerous things.

Mostly dangerous things.

Unbidden, a past memory sprang up, one that he forced himself to suppress. Even years later, it still brought bile up into his throat.

_Too many innocents…gone… slaughtered._

He shook his head. He had been young and fresh and thought that which he joined and fought for was for the greater good… and it dawned on him that day in the jungle, over ten years ago, he had been an innocent as well. That first foray into that long ago rain forest had truly been the loss of everything pure and blameless in John’s life. 

And where he truly earned his nickname.

For a moment, he focused on the foliage, anything to rid his mind of that faraway rain forest a lifetime ago, focused on the various shades of green, focused on the smell of blooming things, rotting things, the scent of the ocean behind him. He focused on the sounds, the birds and insects, the wind through trees, the sound of the ocean roar. Focusing on his breath.

_In._

_Out._

_In…_

_Out…_

_In._

_Out._

_In…_

_Out…_

Breathing under control, he stepped in.

Even after everything, he was astonished at how fast the sun was blotted out; how quickly the sound of the ocean disappeared. He took note of the trees, their shape their placement. For the not the first time, he double checked to make sure his long-sleeves were buttoned, checked to make sure gloves were in his pocket. His jeans were tucked into his boots; he knew the jungle and its inhabitants well.

Within three steps, he knew he was being watched. Angry, angry eyes, watching his every move.

Good, he snarled to himself, an evil grin gracing his features. He wished he had a gun or a machete. 

For a time, he skirted the edge of the forest, not hearing the ocean, but knowing it was there. He made note of the birds, brightly colored Pacific Caws, plants, flowers. He idly wondered if the fruit on that tree that looked like an odd cross between a star fruit and a pomegranate, was edible.

“It is.”

Reaper jumped, turning to face the voice, his hand immediately searching for a gun that was not there. “What the hell?”

The old man had snuck up on him. He was wizened, ancient; there was no way Reaper could put an age on him. Sixty? Eighty? One hundred? Slender and weathered like a gnarled tree, with white hair sticking every which way, he leaned on a thick walking stick, but for some strange reason, Reaper didn’t think he needed the stick for walking. He was wearing faded shorts, a ‘Las Vegas is for Lovers’ tee-shirt that looked as if it had been pounded and washed on a rock for a decade and an old pair of Nikes that looked to be as old as the man. “The fruit,” the man nodded to where the strange star-fruit-that-could-be-a-pomegranate hung. “It is edible. But it doesn’t taste very good. It gives me the shits.” He looked over to where Reaper’s hand was still grasping for air. “Do you wish to shoot me?” He held out one hand. “I am but a defenseless old man. Why would anyone want to harm me?”

Reaper’s heart was racing, but he dropped his hand. “You startled me. Gut reaction.” He wondered if the old man’s eyes were the angry ones he sensed. Somehow, he didn’t think so. He turned and walked away.

“Wait! Wait!” Now Reaper heard him, scurrying through the leaves. “You want to see the sights, no?” Too quickly, he was next to the Marine. “I show you! I know where everything is at!” He spread his free hand in a wide arc, showing ‘everything.’

“No thanks.” Reaper kept moving. “I like to explore on my own.”

“But… but… no!” Again, the old man’s speed belied the decrepit visual he portrayed. “This is a boring jungle. Lots of pits and vipers and dangerous things.” He took Reaper gently by the elbow and attempted to guide him towards the edge of the tropical forest. “I show you the beach!” He smiled with an age-old waggle of his head. “Pretty girls on the beach!”

Reaper gently pulled his arm from the old man’s grasp. “I’ve seen the beach, thank you.” He again moved forward. “All the pretty girls here are married or my sister. Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Or Abby-girl. She’s pretty!” Again, Reaper found the man sidled up next to him. The old goat was starting to piss him off. “She likes you. You can smell it!” Again, he nodded, knowingly.

Reaper narrowed his eyes. The old man could smell it as well? It crossed his mind to question the old man, but he decided to ignore the remark, for now. “I’m going exploring. Leave me alone.” He turned again and headed deeper into the jungle.

“Wait! Wait! Wait!” The old man was now screeching. “There are ugly things. Dangerous things.” Again, Reaper felt his arm being grabbed, the old native trying to turn him around. “Twelve legged spiders with sixteen eyes and four fangs that ooze green, steamy venom!” The old man put his hands to his face and wiggled his fingers, his mouth aping a grotesque shape. He was making clicking noises to add to the affects.

Reaper had to laugh. “Spiders have eight legs and eyes, you old coot. And two-“ he thrust two curved fingers into the native’s face, ‘pinchers!”

“AH!” With this, the local smiled gleefully, “but if you are bit, you will see fourteen legs with eighteen eyes!”

“Wait!” Reaper’s finger was still in the old man’s face. “You said twelve legs, not fourteen!” 

The man put both hands to his ears and closed his eyes. “Ai! Ai! Ai! You get bit, you will not live long enough to count!”

Reaper leaned down, almost nose-to-nose with him. “Then how do you know how many legs I will supposedly see?” He scowled and again turned away. “Skive off. I can handle this.”

“You are a professional.”

The unexpected change and seriousness in tone stopped Reaper in his tracks. He turned slowly. “Who are you?” He snarled. “What are you?”

Suddenly, the old man didn’t seem so comical, so… clownish. He was standing straight, regarding John with serious, deep-probing eyes. For a moment, Reaper didn’t think he would speak and opened his mouth to repeat the question, but finally, the old man raised his hand. “Continue on the path you are on and you will arrive in the village and upset the young ones and their mothers. The guards will attack you, although you will be difficult to kill and that would be a shame. That way-“ he pointed off to the east, “is filled with treacherous drops and pits filled with vipers and other things that you would rather not encounter. However,” he pointed in yet another route, “over in that direction are ruins of the old ones and such that your sister would be enamored of and keep her agile, curious mind from things she should not seek. Or perhaps, it will give her the answers she does seek. It would keep her busy as well as you. Shall I show you or will you insist on making an ass of yourself?”

Reaper rolled his eyes and turned.

He immediately found his legs ripped from under him and he fell to the forest floor on his back, looking up into the canopy of the trees. The old man appeared over him, looking down, with his not-walking stick in his hand and a wry grin on his face. “My apology. I did not answer your question. I am Santoso. Now please. Again. Shall I show you the ruins and when your sister can manage around a bit better, you can show them to her with my blessing?” He stuck a twisted hand out. “Or shall I put you on your ass again?”

Reaper grabbed the hand and pulled himself up. He tightened his grip, pulling Santoso towards him. “Think you can?”

He found himself thrown and on his back again. “Obviously.” Again, the happy-go-lucky face of the man leaned over him. “I can do this all day. I would prefer to show you the ruins.”

Reaper didn’t get up as fast this time. It was galling, painful that an old man could best him. His old platoon, if they still lived, would be laughing their collective asses off. “Fine.” He brushed the old man – Santoso’s – hand away. “Show me your ruins.”

Santoso cackled and motioned. “You follow me. Believe me, you will like and your sister will love you when you tell her.” He scuttled off into the brush.

“My sister already loves me,” Reaper mumbled. Again, the feeling of angry eyes bore into the back of his head.

“She will love you more! She will forgive you many sins!” Santoso burst from the brush, motioning with his hand. “Come! Come! You slow for young man!”

After thirty minutes of twisting, circling, back-tracking, branch-ducking, jumping over logs Santoso swore hid ‘ugly’ things, they came into a clearing.

“Well? Well?” The old man jumped up in glee. “Your sister, she will like, no?”

“Shit.” Reaper’s jaw was slack as he took in the ruins, the vines, the things hidden, the possibilities… for the first time since he was young, his mouth watered at the chore ahead. “SHIT! She would offer to fuck me.”

The old man cackled. “Maybe true, but Abby-girl would be a better choice for you!”

~~~…~~~

A few hours later, John and Santoso were heading out, the old man showing him the landmarks to find his way back – although Reaper had a feeling that Santoso would meet him at the jungle edge when he returned with Sam – when laughter came towards them from a different path. Reaper held his hand up to Santoso to wait. Soon, Abigail and another native came through the dense greenery, the doctor laughing at whatever the native was telling her.

“Ossi, I do not believe that for a minute!”

“Is true, I swear!” He appeared to be young, not yet approaching adulthood. “I saw it with my own eyes!” The two stopped when they realized they weren’t alone in the small, miniscule clearing. 

“Santoso!” Abby seemed to be oblivious to Reaper’s presence, however the scent that rose above the floral perfume, gave Reaper – and obviously Santoso – reason to believe otherwise. “Your great-grandson is telling the most horrible stories about you!” 

“Is that so?” Santoso glanced at the boy. “I hope you do not believe everything you hear. John and I-” he motioned to Reaper, forcing Abigail to acknowledge the Marine, “have been exploring and are becoming good friends.”

Finally, she graced Reaper with a glance. “Really? How did this happen?”

Reaper opened his mouth, to say something rude and disgusting, but Santoso beat him to it. “We have special surprise for his sister when she can move about. Perhaps, the two of you,“ he flicked a long finger back and forth between the two, “should get together for noon-meal and plan together. Like… what is the word? Date? Yes.” He nodded enthusiastically. “A date. You should have a date!” He rubbed his hands together gleefully. With a quickness John wouldn’t have believed had he not witnessed it, Santoso rushed to her side and gently taking her elbow, pulled her towards Reaper. “Here. You go with him now. He safe! He is one of us.” With a nod to Ossi, the two disappeared in to the jungle, leaving Reaper and Abigail alone in the mist.

“I don’t think you’re safe.” 

Reaper raised an eyebrow. “I’m not.” It was a declaration, albeit a soft-spoken one. “Not safe at all. Watch your step and keep up.” With that, he turned and stalked towards the edge of the rainforest.

Abigail ran to keep up with him. Soon, they were standing on the edge of the beach, the jungle behind them. “I don’t think you’re one of them, either!” She shook her head.

Reaper narrowed his eyes, before pulling his sunglasses from his head and over his eyes. “Oh, I think I just might be.” He took a few steps before stopping and looking over his shoulder. “So, how about that lunch date, Abigail? Or are you too scared?”

She stood her ground, arms across her chest. “What makes you think I want to go out with you?”

John was by her side, his lips at her ear. “I can smell it and you know what? Santoso can smell it too.” She felt him smile against her. “Admit it. I’m a sex god and you want me!”

Abigail started laughing and it sent a tingle down John’s spine. “Oh, that’s ripe. Smell it, indeed! Next, you’ll want to sacrifice me on the altar of lust!” She continued laughing until she realized that he held her tight.

“Don’t need to sacrifice you. Just take you.” Abruptly, he turned her loose and she shivered at the sudden loss of his warmth. “Am I still invited to dinner tomorrow night with you and Sam? I’ll… dress appropriately.” And with that, he strode off. “Just maybe,” he yelled to the air, “I’ll take you to lunch on Sunday. Won’t even need to discuss the surprise for Sam. I can deal with that!” 

“WHAT?”

“We’ll find something else to discuss!” Reaper started to chuckle to himself. _Like how wet you are right about now and how hard I am and unless I get my mind somewhere else and quick, I’m going to cum before I can do much else._ He rolled up his sleeves and began to jog, his mind returning to the surprise in the jungle.

As he disappeared down the beach, Abigail felt strangely alone and bereft, as if something precious was lost through her hands.

~~~…~~~

Later that evening, Reaper found Abigail’s unused golf cart parked in the small port of his and Sam’s rented abode. To watch him jump up and down, Sam could have sworn he found a stack of porn hidden in the seat. She was simply grateful she wouldn’t have to ride the handlebars of the damned bike anymore.

Unfortunately, as they drove into town Friday night, Reaper behind the wheel, she remembered why she hated driving with him.

~~~…~~~

He drove like a madman. Still.

They pulled up in front of the restaurant, noticing the honeymooning couples. With the plane only coming once a week, most would be leaving over the weekend, back to their homes, their real lives. Many were sunburned, too tanned, tired.

Sam was queasy. Her stomach rolled and she clung to the metal frame of the golf cart. “Damn, John! Didn’t the Marines teach you to drive better than that?” She was windblown and her cheeks were pink.

“Defensive maneuvers!” John was up, out, the key in the back pocket of his very well-fitting jeans. “Top of my class!” He raced around to her side and helped her out. Women on the walk looked at him appreciatively, much to the ire of their husbands. In addition to the snug, well-fitting jeans, Reaper wore a simple white button down oxford shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the cut showing the breadth of his shoulders, the color, his tan. He took off his sunglasses and folding them down, tucked them into what he called ‘the nerd pocket.’

He wore stubble well. 

They hadn’t been seated at the table long, when Abigail arrived. John could smell her, her perfume the moment she stepped into the restaurant and it took every ounce of self-control he had to keep from turning to look at her.

Dinner was satisfying, conversation light for the most part. On several occasions, Abigail and Sam dropped into jargon, talk of Abigail’s research taking center stage. The two women were animated, laughing, comparing notes, and discussing things that John wished went over his head. He raised an eyebrow when Sam ordered the steak, assured by Abigail that the weekend cook was much better than the one who manned the kitchen in the middle of the week and over-cooked everything. He ordered the steak again as well, rare – told the waiter to simply throw it on the open fire when it ran by and flip it once.

Abigail was right. Tonight, flavor was an explosion.

Stuffed, satisfied, and polishing off a bottle of wine, John really wasn’t paying attention when Sam’s voice cut through his mindless musings.

“Surprise? You have a surprise for me in the jungle?”

Reaper sent a mock glare to Abigail. “Abby-girl,” he used Santoso’s nick-name for her, making her grin, “spilled the beans?”

“No,” Abigail lifted her wineglass and toasted John. “I simply told her you found something in the jungle she would like.”

“But she used the word ‘surprise.’” John drained his glass and turned it upside down. He was really unhappy with the fact the C24 seemed to escalate his senses and lessened his ability to drink or hold any sort of liquor. “Which tells me you and I need to talk.” She flapped her jaw in indignation. “Lunch Sunday. I’ll pick you up.” The waiter laid the bills on the table and before Abigail could lay claim to hers, John picked up both. “My treat, tonight.” Sam started to giggle; clearly inebriated and knowing the treat was anything but on John. “Your treat next Friday. Deal?”

“You are a hard man, John Grimm.”

“You have no idea how hard!” Putting his wallet away and laying the restaurant pad back on the table, he stood up, effectively calling an end to the evening. Sam was still moving slowly and was showing signs of exhaustion. “Come on, ladies. I’ll see you both to your doors.”

Abigail and Sam both rode in the back, clinging again to the frames, although John took great pains to drive carefully. The last thing he wanted to do was have to scrape one or the other off the road because he careened around a corner too fast. They arrived quickly enough at their place, both John and Abigail helping Sam into the house. She swore she could get to the bathroom and her bedroom by herself, thank you very much and waved the two off.

Abigail stood at the door. “I can walk. It’s no big deal.”

“It is. I insist.” John stood next to her. Her scent was heady. From his height over her, she was tiny, diminutive. He could see straight down her sundress.

Nope. No wonderbra. Just nice, wonderful, more than a healthy handful, and perky…

“Walk or shall I drive?”

She snorted. “Walk.”

“Hey!” John was slightly affronted at the smear of his driving skills. “I was careful!”

“Yes, you were, but I’ve had one glass of wine too many and I would like to walk some of it off. Clear my head.” The two headed down the drive and onto the roadway. “How many glasses did we have?”

John shrugged, taking in the night air, the stars, the full moon. “Don’t know. We wasted three bottles.” The two started off down the road.

“Really?” Abigail was flabbergasted. “I had no idea we drank that much.”

“Don’t feel bad.” John pulled his shirt from his waistband and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Sam drank most of it. Had no idea what a little alchie my sister was.”

“Don’t tell but,” Abigail whispered conspiratorially, “in college, your sister could drink the guys under the table!” 

Apparently, Abby-girl had had a bit too much to drink as well. Reaper made a mental note to keep an eye on the women, lest they cause a commotion when they went to town. Last thing he wanted was to fight off angry wives because his sister and her friend had over indulged and were caught making passes at their husbands. They quickly came to Abigail’s home. As promised, he walked her to the door. For a moment, the two stood there, in the porch light. Abigail’s perfume, bolstered by her natural scent, was escalated to the point John contemplated taking her right there on the porch.

She looked at him, head cocked to the side as in deep thought. Her key was in her hand. “Would you like to come in for some coffee?” 

For a moment, a short, brief, never ending moment…

“Not tonight.”

Her head dropped. “Oh. I’m sorry, I just-”

A finger slid beneath her chin, lifting her eyes. “One night, I am going to come in. And I’m going to stay. I don’t want you to regret what happens, when I do.” Quickly, he bent down, his lips brushing hers. The next moment, he took the keys from her, opening the door. “Good night, Abby-girl. I’ll pick you up at noon, Sunday.” He dropped the keys back in her hand and walked off into the night.

Shaking, she watched him disappear into the dark, before stealing into her home and locking the door.

~~~…~~~

“You play with fire, old man.”

“It is my fire to play with.”

Silence.

“He is dangerous.” The younger man stalked off, leaving an angry path in the mist in the air. The old man continued to smoke his pipe.

“He is only dangerous to you.”

~~~TBC~~~


	7. 07 - Someday, I will

**__**

The Vacation 

****

_Chapter 07_  


**__**

Someday I will 

“You have a date on Sunday?” Sam was squinting in the morning sun, coming through the dining room windows. “What do you mean you have a date on Sunday?”

Reaper sat at the dining room table, his arms curled around the cereal bowl, much like a primate. _‘Cocoa Pebbles,’_ he thought to himself morosely, _‘are definitely over-rated.’_ “A date,” he mumbled, trying to keep milk from oozing down his chin. “As in, taking someone to lunch or dinner or a movie or the beach, just the two of you, to get to know them better. Sunday, as in the day of the week. Sunday, as in tomorrow.”

Sam sat down across from him, her back to the windows. She put her head in her hands, eyes squeezed shut. “Damn, I forgot how much this hurts.”

“Serves you right.” Reaper’s mouth was full and had she been looking, Sam would have had plenty of unkind, anti-Marine things to say about the milk dribbling out of the side of her brother’s mouth. He swallowed, the mushy lump sliding down his throat. “Honest, Sam, I had no clue you drank like that.”

“I had no clue you quit drinking!” she spat before groaning. “John, I figured you’d be going through a twelve-pack a day and you hardly touch the stuff.”

He picked up the bowl and drank the last of the milk, making sure to slurp loudly, in order to completely gross his sister out. He belched once, before setting the bowl down, a comical milk-moustache caught in his morning stubble. “Thank the C24 for that.”

“You’ve lost the taste for beer?” she squinted.

“No.” He got up and put his bowl and spoon in the sink. “I get a buzz too quickly. Jot that down in your lab rat notebook.” She looked at him, not truly comprehending. “I drink two beers; it’s like I drank six. One glass of wine? Might as well be the entire bottle for me. Everything is heightened.” He turned on the water and rinsed the bowl. “And I mean, everything.”

“Care to explain?”

_How to explain, Sam… you’re my sister…_

“My mind never stops.” He sat down across from her. “It’s constantly racing, working. I replay scenes, the entire time on Mars through my head; how could I have changed things, stopped things. How could I have saved the civilians, the scientists, The Kid…” his voice dropped. “Everything I’ve read, gone through on those flashdrives you retrieved, I’m researching when you’re asleep, trying to figure it out all the time. I can’t absorb information fast enough. And if my mind isn’t working, my body is.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Reaper kept talking as if she hadn’t spoken. “I can’t stay still. I exercise, I fidget.” True to his word, his leg, at that moment, was bouncing erratically under the table. “I’m lucky to get a few hours sleep each night. My sight, my hearing are both more acute. My body is screaming for constant stimulation in one way or the other.”

Sam stared at him, his words sinking in. She searched the counter, anything for a pad and paper, trying to keep everything fresh. “So you’re in need of constant stimula…tion…” her words hit and she looked up, alarmed.

“Yeah,” her brother sneered. “That too.”

Sam sat back in her chair, all of it hitting her. “Oh shit.”

“No shit.”

It was quiet for a moment. “John, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what it would do.”

He shrugged, studying his hands. “It was that or let me die. If I died, you would have died and Sarge and the other things would have made it to the surface. We’ll just deal with this.”

“I need to figure out how to reverse it.”

John thought about his meeting and discussion with Santoso, the ruins in the jungle… “Sam, I don’t think it can be reversed.”

“What do you mean?”

“If it could, the original inhabitants of the ruins on Mars would have done so. “

“Maybe they just didn’t find a chance to find a reversal cure.”

“Maybe.” 

“Maybe they did manage to reverse it. Once they arrived here.”

“Maybe.”

_Maybe not._

Sam was now staring at her hands, deep in thought. “John. Please don’t hurt Abby.” Her comment came from left field and it caught him off guard.

_Oh, I’m going to hurt her all right and she’ll enjoy every minute of it._

“I mean,” she stumbled on, “I know you and you won’t mean to and you’ll be just you, but she’s my friend and her luck with men has been pretty bad.”

Reaper mulled over her words. Women were women. He couldn’t stop the inevitable. He wasn’t teasing last night when he told her he didn’t want her to regret a moment of when he decided to come in… and he intended to make sure she didn’t.

“How much do you trust her, Sam?”

“Abby?” Sam looked confused. “She’s my friend-“

“Yeah, I know. How much do you trust her?”

Sam blushed. “With my life.”

Reaper raised his eyebrows at that. “Is this a story I shouldn’t hear?”

If anything, Sam’s face turned redder, her hair part going up like a thermometer. “I got in a bad spot once at a frat party. She rescued me and took me home before things got out of hand.” She dropped her head and her shoulders drooped. “She never told anyone. I trust her. Why?”

Silence.

“Does it have something to do with her natives?”

“Yeah.” He waited a moment for it to sink in. “I want to see how well you’re getting around this week. Maybe next week, we can go into the jungle.”

“You have that surprise for me.” Sam tried to smile, despite her headache. “You might as well tell me.”

John grinned at that. _Ah, a hint wouldn’t hurt._ “There are ruins… an old settlement. I’m no judge but it’s hundreds of years old. At least. Maybe a thousand.”

“Really? And Abby hasn’t seen these?” Sam’s interest was certainly piqued. Headache almost forgotten, she sat up straighter.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I haven’t asked. Maybe I will tomorrow.” He wagged a finger to stop her barrage of questions. “It will keep you busy and will give you an excuse to borrow or purchase the equipment we need through her. But, you have to be able to maneuver better than you are now.” He watched her squint from her wine-induced headache and felt a small amount of pity for her. “I can fix your hangover. If you want. Old Marine cure.”

“And you’re just now telling me?”

He gave her that half, lop-sided smile. “It’s pretty nasty.”

“I don’t care.”

Five minutes later, Sam was vomiting her guts in her toilet. “Bastard!” she gagged between retches, John watching her, leaning against the doorpost.

“I warned you.” He handed her a bottle of water. “Rinse. You’ll be all well in four minutes, tops.”

~~~…~~~ 

The rest of Saturday was spent walking slowly on the beach, Sam without crutches. Light physical therapy on their return and time in the hot tub, something that Sam reveled in and a place where John had some pretty disgusting fantasies.

Today, they weren’t watched, something that gave Reaper little comfort. 

“So, where are you taking her?” Sam was overly inquisitive.

“Huh?”

“Abby!” His sister actually sounded put out. “Where are you taking her?”

Reaper leaned back, wondering if Sam would notice if he was adding extra bubbles to the Jacuzzi. “Well, I thought we’d start with appetizers at the sushi bar-”

“John-”

“-and then we’d go clubbing, check out all the hot night spots-”

“John!”

“-do some moves under a disco ball and then take in a drive-in movie and after that, a midnight stroll on the beach-”

“JOHN!”

“-and then we’d wind up naked and oiled down at her place, having wild, crazy sex on the dining room table…” He was grinning at his sister.

“I don’t want to hear this!” 

“You asked.”

“I’m not amused!”

He lifted his water bottle. “No, but you never did have much of a sense of humor.” He took a swig. “Lunch. That’s all I have planned. Just lunch.” He took another drink. “I promise not to hurt her.”

_Tomorrow… but after that… who knows…._

~~~…~~~ 

He arrived at exactly noon. The Marine was punctual, if nothing else.

He inhaled her the moment she opened the door. A floral soap, a light floral perfume and _sexsexsexfuckmefuckkmenowsex_ all over. She was wearing a flimsy sundress that showed off an even tan, very little make-up.

Reaper was ready to walk in right then and take her on the entryway floor.

But instead, he was a gentleman and made sure not to careen around every corner. 

Abby pointed out a little bistro, around the corner and hidden from the main thoroughfare. It was quiet, foot traffic was light. She explained Friday night was usually the hot spot, Saturday the tourists packed and flew out, Sunday was a day for those who lived on the island year round to recuperate and wait for the next wave coming in on the return flight on Monday.

“You mean the plane stays here all week?”

Abby was toying with her linguini. “The island is pretty remote; pretty far removed. They keep one here in case of emergency. You know, severe weather, typhoon, fire… that sort of thing.”

Reaper appeared to be exploring his sandwich. “The plane is big enough for every one? The natives?” He took a bite, the question seeming oh so very innocent, but anything but.

“Y’know,” Abby’s Charleston accent suddenly became more pronounced, “I don’t really know.” She took several bites and John waited as she apparently gathered her thoughts while chewing. “Sometimes I think there are more natives than there is plane; in fact, I know there are more natives than there is plane.”

“Tell me about them.”

Abby was in her element; a captive, intelligent – even if he was a Marine – audience – who asked thoughtful, insightful questions. As she told Sam, she told Reaper – _REAPER! Who ran around with a nickname like ‘Reaper’?_ – about these amazingly long-lived… 

_How long lived? They all reach 80? 100? More than 100? How old is Santoso?_

…people, who physically did not necessarily have ‘native-like’ physical traits…

_You mean like there’s blonde and blue – eyed natives? Really? You’re shitting me? Oh? Profanity. Sorry._

… and were not only resistant to disease, but fast healing when injured…

_How fast?_

…to the point it was impossible to tell if and when injury actually occurred.

_Damn, Abby-girl! That is just too much. My sister would have a field day. Speaking of my sister…_

Finally, Abigail had rounded into territory Reaper really wanted to discuss, opened up as prettily as the homecoming queen had spread her legs for him the night of the homecoming dance. Both lunches were consumed and the wine coolers were the perfect finishers.

“Abby-girl, I have a favor to ask.”

“Ah,” her face fell slightly. “This is why you asked me to lunch.”

Reaper actually had the audacity to look hurt. “The favor? No. Not why I asked you to lunch at all. And before you say it-” he put his finger up and wagged it to stop her answering retort, “I didn’t ask you to lunch because that old coot is trying to set us up!” 

“What’s the favor, John?” She lifted that cute little bottle.

Reaper’s smile became introspective. “As you’ve guessed, Sam and I are going to be here a while-”

“Y’all pissed somebody off.” Abby caught the sudden shift in Reaper’s demeanor and continued. “She didn’t tell me much, so don’t yell at her.” Her finger was now in John’s face. “But I’m not stupid.”

Reaper stared at her for a few moments, a long, unnerving time. For a split second, Abby thought she now knew what it felt like to be in the cross hairs of his assault rifle. “We are going to be here a while,” he finally continued, quietly, tersely. “A long time. Sam is going to get very bored, very quickly and I want to make sure she doesn’t eat herself alive or drink herself into oblivion.” Abby was staring at him intently, listening closely. “She is going to be rehabbing her leg for a long time and I’m working with her in that, but her brain is starting to turn to mush.”

“The drinking.” Abby said it out loud. “How bad was her hangover this morning?”

“Bad enough,” Reaper whispered. “I need to put her to work and she needs to go to work-”

“You think I should let her help with my research?”

Reaper sighed with relief. This _was_ much easier than the homecoming queen, who made him work for that fine piece of pussy.

“Would you?” Reaper was trying not to sound too whiney. “It would keep her occupied. Of course, she’ll have the ruins to play in eventually.”

“The ruins are fascinating,” Abby agreed. “Not my field of expertise, of course.”

“Of course,” Reaper gallantly agreed. “I’m going to try to get Sam into the ruins some time next week, but I’m worried about her hip and leg and doubt she’ll be able to spend hours on her knees for any given amount of time…” Reaper let his voice trail off, allowing Abby to fill in her thoughts and think.

“Girl’s gonna go stir-crazy.” Abby tapped her lip thoughtfully, the Charleston accent sliding back. “I could use another set-a eyes in my lab-”

“You have a lab?” _WHOO HOO! SCOOOORE FOR THE REAPER!_

Abby snorted, a most inelegant, unlady-like sound coming from such southern genteelness. “I have a livin’ room, turned into a lab. It’s now spillin’ into my dinin’ room and will continue to spread into my spare bedroom.” Reaper was trying to look as if he were interested in all of her lab equipment rather than actually being interested in _her_ bedroom and _her_ personal equipment. He also noticed the more comfortable she was talking about her professional hobby, the more pronounced her accent was. And that accent… he wondered what dirty things it would whisper in his ear. He realized she was still talking.

“Of course, I’ll have to have a chat with Santoso about allowing Sam to join me in the village. I don’t see that he’d have a problem as he offered the ruins to her… hey!” Abby sat up, as if a great revelation had struck her. “How did Santoso know about your sister anyway?”

That was a good question, one that Reaper had pondered on since Santoso brought her up. “Santoso caught me wandering in the jungle and rather than string me up, we took a long walk and we chatted. I told him about Sam.” Reaper was trying to will the effects of the wine cooler away. “Strange old coot.”

“I happen to like that old coot,” Abby admonished him. “He’s smarter than any of us.” They were quiet as the waitress brought the bill, Reaper taking it and putting the prerequisite amount of cash in the pad. “Yeah,” she nodded, “between us, we can keep Sam busy.”

“I would appreciate that.” The waitress brought back the pad with his change and after leaving a generous tip, John looked at the receipt before folding it and putting it in his shirt pocket. He held Abby’s chair as she rose and held her by the elbow as they got back into the cart. She took him through the back streets of the village, showing him the things most tourists missed, showing him things he missed as he and Sam had yet to come into town and explore. He realized that at some point soon, he would need to squire his sister on a shopping spree, allow her to stick her nose into every shop, nook, and cranny, something he knew, deep in his heart, was going to bore him to tears and probably kill him in a way Sarge couldn’t. There was native jewelry, native material, native beading, native this, native that…Abby chattering, pointing and most of it washing over and around Reaper’s brain.

Too soon, they wound their way back to her home, to her door.

“If I didn’t say it before, thank you for the loan of the cart.” Reaper stood next to her, helping her out. 

Abby had been thinking of the things Sam told her about her beloved, exasperating brother and gentlemanly manners hadn’t been brought up at all. Truly, she was in shock. He had been a complete gentleman Friday night; he was a total gentleman straight out of a GQ magazine today. Fine, GQ in tan shorts and a short – sleeved, untucked button-down. She wondered idly what he’d look like in a suit…

“Sam thanks you too.” He watched as she swung her legs from the passenger seat. 

Abby blushed under his scrutiny, something she hadn’t done in years. “Ah, it’s no problem,” she whispered. “I don’t use it.” She realized he held her by the tips of her fingers and he brought them to his mouth, gently kissing the back of her knuckles. “Oh…”

Her hand still lifted to his mouth, his eyes raked her in. He had bedroom eyes, a gaze hotter than a smoldering fire and Abby knew she was in serious, serious trouble. “You want to know why I asked you to lunch?” he whispered, barely audible. She nodded, saying nothing. He drew her closer, wrapped her to him with his free arm. “So I could do this again.”

It happened so fast, she didn’t have time to breathe in, pucker up, much less open up. His mouth descended, encompassed hers, took her in, inhaled her. His teeth scrapped her lower lip, his tongue quickly following behind, soothing the minute hurt. What little bit of wine strayed in the corner of her mouth was gone and gone instantly.

As quickly as he claimed her, he turned her loose. The scent of her arousal was so strong, he was fighting to stay in control and he was aware that the very far reaches of his vision had a reddish haze. Battling, forcing his need back, a slow, half-grin spread across his lips. “That’s why I asked you to lunch.” Leaving her to struggle to breathe, he went back around the front of the vehicle and slid into the driver’s seat. “Pick you up at noon next Sunday?” He drove off before she could nod yes; much less realize she was agreeing to another lunch date.

Reaper was feeling quite proud of himself as he turned the corner and out of sight. The red haze retreated; his own breathing and body began to return to normal. By the time he finished slowly teasing her, she might jump him, which would be nice. He liked aggressive women; the thought of taming them was fun… but for some reason, he thought others would pale in comparison to Abby. Once he was assured he was out of her sight, he stopped the cart and pulled the bistro receipt from his pocket. There was neat writing on the back, a note he had seen, but not read when he paid the tab back at the restaurant. Quickly, he turned it over.

_.Come have a chat asap alone. I have some information for you. Jinjin._

Reaper refolded and tucked the receipt back into his pocket and headed back into town.

~~~…~~~ 

In the depths of the foliage near Abby’s front door, Santoso watched with a grin as Reaper picked Abby-Girl up and waited until he brought her back. He nodded in satisfaction when he kissed her and shook his head in mock disgust when he left her on her front porch. He could smell both of them, their craving, in the air and it was beyond him why neither one of them acted on their overwhelming desire and need. What was wrong with today's generation? The Changling would be much better off once he satisfied that urge of his and Abby-girl… well… Abby-girl would understand much of what she didn’t understand yet. After watching Abby-girl go into her home and Reaper leave, Santoso turned his back and danced into the jungle, doing a jig.

Things were moving along.

tbc


	8. 08 - The Weather is Here, Wish You Were Beautiful

****

The Vacation 

****

Chapter 08 

****

The Weather is Here, Wish You Were Beautiful 

JinJin’s abode was the floor above the little rental agency that fronted the man’s dubious extracurricular activities and Reaper figured those activities were probably rather … well… dubious. He wasn’t surprised at the luxurious condition of the apartment; rich, colorful Indian rugs carpeted the floor, bookcases jammed with well worn and obviously many times read books. There were antiques or well-done copies of vases, lamps, artwork, over-stuffed leather furniture. There was an ornate, ancient grand piano in the corner, in the sun. It reeked of a baron’s masculine, country home, only on a much smaller scale.

“You play?” Reaper nodded at the piano. He let his fingers plunk up the keyboard, like a cat walking across. It was woefully out of tune.

“No.” JinJin lit up, the stench of the Boyton cigarettes clinging to every inch of space and air it could. “It belonged to my mother. It was her joy.” He inhaled deeply from the nasty thing, before finishing. “It was just one of the few things I managed to salvage before the estate was auctioned off.” He exhaled, blowing a long stream of smoke into the air. “Everything you see, I managed to sneak out before the creditors got their greedy hands on it.”

“Must of cost a fortune.”

“That and a lifetime of promises.” The man was staring off somewhere far away, his voice nothing but a ghost of itself.

“Would that include me and Sam?”

JinJin took another drag before his eyes shifted to John. “Among other things.” He finished his cigarette, stubbing it out in an expensive crystal candy dish converted to an ashtray. He walked over to the bookcase, perusing it for a moment before selecting a book and pulling it out. “This was emailed to me as an attachment.” He opened the book and began thumbing through it. “It was sent to you and I printed it without opening the document and put it in the book.” He extracted a folded piece of paper. “I have not read it.” He handed it to John.

Reaper started to put it in his pocket, but on second thought, curiosity got to him. Moving away from JinJin, he stepped over by the piano, making sure no one could read over his shoulder.

_Jonathan;_

_As you have most likely surmised by now, you and Samantha have been hidden away for safe keeping for what will most likely be an extended time. I am most sorry for that and aggrieved that such measures had to be taken, however as I am sure you would agree, some things that were allowed to happen on Olduvai should not be repeated. Until inquiries are exhausted and closed, and interest dies down, it would be best to keep you and your sister remote and safe._

_I am personally seeing to your and your sister’s needs financially. If you need anything, please let JinJin know. Please consider it your pay for staying safe and for an impossible job well done on Olduvai. Believe me, it is not charity._

_I understand your sister had access to very delicate information. It would behoove her to be very careful where she uploads or stores it, much less who she talks about it to. She should truly concentrate on healing, but I am sure her mind will need to be exercised as well. It is also my understanding you are having difficulty adapting to the sudden changes in your life in recent months. I wish to help._

_I have already ordered a scrambler; re-router, a smoke screen of sorts, to mask your IP so you can at least access your personal email and blogs. JinJin is quite adept in making sure there are no bugs and I’m sure you are quite adept in checking for such things as well. You will find in him a valuable and reliable ally. In addition, I have arranged flash drives, externals, etc. for you as I am sure you will need for whatever documents, books, or music vids young people your age like to keep on hand._

_I hope the monthly paycheck for the two of you will suffice. If it does not, if you need more or if you need anything, again, let JinJin know. It will be arranged._

 

It was unsigned. 

John read through it again before speaking. “Who is this?” he pointed at the paper.

“I do not know.” John glared at the man, a withering look that seemed to shrink the Brit. “Truly, I do not know.” He pulled out another cigarette and lit it, his hand shaking. “I’m just the middle man.”

John read it again, before folding it up and putting it in his pocket. “Sold your soul?” JinJin shrugged. Reaper scowled. “I need a punching bag, a gun, preferably a big one, a semi-automatic, preferably two, and bullets.” JinJin gasped. “One big enough to put a serious hole in someone. A lot of bullets. I need a machete, preferably two...”

“I don’t know if I-”

“I think you can. I think you will.” With the fierceness and the speed of a whipcord, John’s hand struck out, his fingers grasping around JinJin’s throat, lifting the smaller man to his toes. He was aware of JinJin’s rapid pulse beating dangerously under his thumb. Reaper’s voice was like the cinders, blowing, skirting the table where the ashtray sat. “Someone here doesn’t like me, JinJin, doesn’t like Sam. I need to be able to protect us, capiche?” JinJin shook his head quickly, beads of perspiration rising quickly on his forehead. Reaper turned him loose and watched dispassionately as he fell, bent over, the man’s gasp harsh and painful. Reaper bent over to look him in the eye, that lop-sided grin evident. “I like you, dude. I _want_ to trust you. But if you ever give me reason to distrust you, to think that this guy,” he patted his pocket where the folded paper rested, “isn’t on the up and up…” he let his voice trail off. “Punching bag. Guns. Ammo. Machetes. Can you remember that?” JinJin nodded, rubbing his throat. “Good.” Reaper turned to leave. When he reached the door, hand on the doorknob, he turned back. “If you’re being completely and totally honest, there is no need to fear the Reaper.” With that, he left, the door shutting with an almost silent click. It locked behind him.

JinJin managed to get himself to his high board, poured himself a stiff glass of whiskey, before sinking into the nearest chair, in shock. He pulled out a cloth handkerchief from his pocket and patted down his forehead, looking at it afterwards as if to see if he was sweating blood.

He had no doubt the Marine would kill him if he didn’t acquiesce to his demands. As soon as his pulse settled down, he went to his desk, opened the laptop and fired an email to the Grimms’ benefactor.

~~~…~~~ 

John slid into the driver’s seat of the electric car and pulled off. Part of standing by the window was to ensure no one tampered with the car. That was something else he was going to have to be concerned about now. As he made his way back to the house, several things churned in his mind and none of them comforting.

Whoever their patron was, he knew they had the information from the computers on Olduvai. How much or how little was unknown. Question was, did they really know or was he or she speculating? Digging for clues? Did they know they had the flash drives? The phial of C24? Or did they simply assume Sam read what was being downloaded as she was copying? 

Trying to put the fear of Jesus in him? That would take some doing.

Whoever they were, they correctly pegged Sam. That was disconcerting. Reaper would hurt anyone who went near Sam. They’d wasted over a decade fighting over trivial shit. That day in the supply room underground, she made it clear, reminded him underhandedly, that they were all the other had. If one went, the other was alone.

_You’re my brother, John. I know you._

Their sponsor also knew that John had been shot up with C24. That blew the lid off the entire operation. The secret was out. Or might as well be.

He didn’t trust whoever this person was. And he wasn’t sure he really trusted JinJin. He was too nervous…

Come to think of it, he trusted Abby. 

And for some reason, he really, really wanted to trust Santoso. 

Gut feeling. Marine nerves and all. Who knew? 

Who cares?

He really wanted in Abby’s bed. But for some bizarre reason, he had a feeling once he was there, he wouldn’t want to leave.

_Strange._

_I know you. You’re my brother…_

~~~…~~~ 

Sam was napping and awoke to noise that sounded like someone was tearing up the parking pad. She glanced out the window to see the double doors of the shed in the back of the covered cart-port thrown open and the sound of a tornado going through it.

The golf cart was on the pad.

Convinced it was John, she hobbled slowly outside and peeked through the doors.

Sure enough, John was disturbing old dust, moving things, rearranging, pounding nails into the wall…

“Don’t sneak up on people, Sam.” John spun around, a hatchet in his hands.

“What are you doing?” 

“Rearranging. Cleaning up. Making room. ” The hatchet was hung on a set of nails. A stray box made its way on the shelf. It looked as if the floor was now free and clear and Reaper began to sweep.

Sam leaned against the doorway. “Since when did you become such a neat freak?” It hadn’t got past her that he did the majority of the cleaning in the house, the kitchen. He managed to keep her chaotic room in order, the laundry, her ever-exploding luggage. Everything except her bathroom; that was one place he refused to venture into. The house was neat, clean. Even his bed was made up when she ventured that far, his bags lined up neatly against the wall.

“Thank the Marines.” He swept the dust into a pile and, grabbing a dustpan from another hook, began to sweep the dirt up. “You learn fast to keep things cleaned up. The sooner you do it, the better.”

Sam stepped out of his way as he brought out the trash. “Is this a spurt of energy? Or something else?” She turned to face him as he went past her. “How was your date with Abby?”

Reaper grinned at her over his shoulder. “Date was nice. She’s smart and likes to talk.” The lid went on the trashcan and he slid into the driver’s seat of the golf cart. “Out of the way,” he waved his hand. As Sam moved over, he drove the cart into the space he just cleaned. The cart fit perfectly and he got out, pocketing the key, before plugging it up. As he left the storage building, he shut the door behind him, padlocking it with a new lock. 

“Isn’t this a bit much, John?”

Sam recognized the insincerity of his grin. For a moment, she wondered if his date had really been nice at all. “Let’s go inside. Your leg is stiff and I want to work it.” Slowly the two made their way into the house. As Sam sat down on the couch, Reaper pulled a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and handed it to her. “Read that. Tell me what you think.” He then went to check the balcony doors. When he returned, Sam was white as a sheet, her hand shaking.

“Who is this?”

“I don’t know.” He went to the refrigerator and pulled out two beers.

“How did you get it?”

“JinJin.” He popped the tops and brought one to her. 

“How did _he_ get it?”

“Our benefactor sent it to him.” John sank down next to her, drawing a healthy pull from the bottle. “It came as an attachment and JinJin wasn’t forthcoming about who it was. He claims he doesn’t know.”

“Do you believe him?” Sam hadn’t taken a drink, instead set the bottle on the coffee table. Reaper set his down as well, and turning his sister, pulled her feet into his lap. Taking off her shoes, he began to massage her wounded leg. “Did JinJin read this?”

Slowly, he began to make circular, kneading motions between her ankle and her knee, working the tense muscle. “He says he didn’t. I don’t know if I believe him. If he did read it and he’s working against us, I’ll kill him and he knows it.” 

“JOHN!” 

“SAM!” he retorted back. “We are being watched, by someone who does not like us.” He leaned over, hazel eyes bright with fury. “When we are in the jacuzzi, they watch.” She gasped. “They watch me when I go jogging from the cliffs. It’s not an easy feeling and I don’t like leaving you here alone. Even during the day. I’m worried someone will mess with the golf cart, anything. And now,” he pointed at the letter she still held with shaking hands, “this.” He took it from her. “Someone knows. Someone knows we have the C24. They know we have the flashdrives. They know I’ve been changed. They know.” He slung the paper down on the coffee table, watching it float and snarled. “They want to help. Help, my ass.”

Her hand laid over his. “What if they do want to help?”

“What if they don’t?”

Sam’s eyes were wide with fear. “Are we going to live the rest of our lives like this?” she whispered.

He shrugged. Reaper finally picked up his beer and began to drink from it. “I don’t know.”

“Johnny, I don’t want to live the rest of my life, looking over my shoulder.”

_Johnny. Oh, she’s scared. Hell. I’m scared!_

“We have a few options. I think.” He set the bottle down and smiled at her, attempting to settle her, reassure her. He patted her knee. “So no living looking over our shoulders, not if I can help it.” He leaned over and grinned. “My date was great. Want to hear about it?”

With this, Sam blushed. “As long as you didn’t bang her bones, yes, I do.” 

“Saaaaaam!” There was that delightful lop-sided grin. “Me? On the first date?”

Sam stared at him, not commenting. Reaper shook his head ruefully.

“Abby,” he began softly, “could sure use your help with her research and would be happier than a mouse with a huge chunk of cheese if you would stick your nose and expertise in her business. She’s even going to ask Santoso if you can join her in the village. We need a way to get DNA samples from them and somehow you need to copy her files. JinJin has ordered a router for us so we can email and such, and our benefactor is sending flashdrives and externals to store information on. With access to Abby’s information, we might get to the bottom of this mess. Hopefully,” he saluted her with the beer bottle, “we can get to that lovely archeological site in a few weeks and you can start digging and seeing what we find. Perhaps, it will give you an excuse to borrow or buy whatever equipment we need to get to the bottom of this C24 thing.” 

“Oh, you’re going to help?” Sam was humorously skeptical.

“You betcha! Not like I have anything else to do!” He belched.

“Don’t start, John. I can still beat you at that.” She pulled up from her reclining position, using his arm as leverage. “Is that all you did? Pick Abby’s brain for information?” There was a tiredness in her voice, resignation.

At first, John was inclined to tell her that’s all there was to it, that Abby didn’t interest him at all. But truth was, it wasn’t. The one thing he had never done was openly lie to Sam and he wasn’t going to start now.

“No. That’s not all there was. I didn’t ask her out to lunch to simply pick her brain.” He smiled and pointed a finger at her. “Yes, I planned to do it, but that wasn’t my only reason.” He turned back, his attention focused on his bottle, turning it around and around. “I like her, Sam. I like her more than anyone I’ve ever liked. She has a sweet kiss. But as you said, she’s been hurt and I’m leery.” He smiled his best, turn-you-into-pudding smile. “We’re going out again next Sunday. I’m treading carefully, okay?”

_No, I’m not. I’m teasing the juice out of her. She’s going to be screaming for it when I finally nail her._

“That smile is fake, John.” 

“Get happy with it.” He up-ended the bottle and drained it before setting it on the table. “I like Abby. I like her a lot.” 

_Too much._

~~~…~~~ 

Abby followed Santoso into the cave, following the torch, up… up…

He was unusually spry this morning; shoot, the man was always spry, but today, when she said she wanted to talk to him, he grinned and motioned for her to follow him. They walked deep into the jungle, Santoso weaving here, there, talking, chattering about inane things. She was mildly disturbed when he went into the entrance of the shaded and not so obvious cave, but he beckoned and she tagged along. She liked Santoso and had no reason to fear him.

“You have lunch with Reaper-John?” Santoso had this habit of renaming people. She had been answering to ‘Abby-girl’ now for months and didn’t think twice about it.

“Reaper,” she snorted. “What an awful nick-name.” Santoso stopped to look at her, obviously expecting a real answer. “Yes, yes we had lunch yesterday.” 

“Good! Good! He good man!” Suddenly, in the darkness, Santoso’s face was in hers, making her jump back in shock. “I bet he make your toes tingle!” Just as quickly, Santoso moved on, continuing on the ever-elevating path.

“That’s not all he makes tingle,” she muttered.

“What?”

Embarrassed she had said it out loud, Abby spoke up, changed the subject. “Where are we going?”

“You see, you see.” Santoso motioned, waving his hand for her to continue to follow. “Why are the young so impatient?” They continued up the enclosed tunnel. “You go out again with him?”

“Why are you so interested in my love-life?”

Santoso stopped and looked at her, his face serious in the firelight. “You have hidden too long, Abby-girl. Let him teach you.”

“Teach me to what? Fire a gun? Take it apart, clean it and put it back together with my eyes shut?”

“No.” The old man was smiling, his face glowing in the torchlight. “Teach you to fly!” He took her hand. “Teach you to soar!”

They turned a curve and suddenly, they were in a cavern, filled with light. Abby could hear seabirds and the sound of the water crashing onto the beach. Santoso put the long torch on a holder that was attached to the wall. This place had obviously been used many times for whatever purpose, Slowly, Abby moved to the large, chest-high opening at the end of the cavern, the smell of the ocean rising up. She leaned on the ledge, staring out into the vast, endless body of water. 

“Oh Santoso! This is beautiful!” 

The old man was smiling. He joined her at the ledge and laid his finger to his lips. “Shhh. He should be coming by soon.”

Abby looked confused, but she followed his finger pointing out to the beach. There was nothing for long minutes, but Abby didn’t care. She was mesmerized by the crashing of the waves, slowly moving higher. The tide was coming in and the beach was being swallowed up a wave at a time. In a sense, Abby felt very much like the beach, being leisurely eaten alive by the wild power that was John Grimm. No sooner than she thought it, Santoso pointed towards the left, the end of the beach. A small dot was moving quickly up the beach, a small dot that slowly became a man.

Became John.

She watched captivated by the sheer beauty of the Marine, his inexhaustible stamina. They watched as he sprinted up the beach, encircled the rocks at the tip of the island, and then entered the water ankle high, never breaking stride. He returned, now moving calf high in the ocean…

“That has got to be a serious strain on his muscles… all that weight.” Abby whispered. “And he hasn’t slowed down.”

“He is a strong one, Reaper-John.” For not the first time, Abby noted that when Santoso was introspective, deep in thought, his English was not so broken. It retained a trace of education, intellect that Abby longed to explore as a scholar. Santoso was no mere native; he had been places, seen things, retained knowledge that he only hinted at. He was more than he seemed.

Just like John. She sensed it. John was much more than he seemed and it titillated her.

Terrified her.

Without thinking, her finger traced her lip where he had kissed her the day before. She hated the thought, but she looked forward to the coming Sunday. His kiss had been gentle, knowing, it coaxed…

“Bah! He’s violent!” Her voice echoed through the cavern, out into the air.

Santoso’s reflexes were quick. He grabbed her and yanked the two of them backwards as John’s head whipped around, searching the rock face.

“Shhh.” The old man’s finger was back at his lips. “Do you want him to know you spy on him?” He leaned in. “Does he know you hunger for him as he hungers for you?”

Santoso saw the fear in her eyes, knew what it meant.

“I don’t want to like him,” she hissed. “He’s vicious! Chose a brutal life!” 

“There is no anger, no violence in him, Abby-girl.” The headman wandered to the side of the cavern, trying to peer out without being seen. He scowled at not being able to simply lean over the side.

“He’s military! He’s killed people! He chose that life!” Her whisper was loud and it made Santoso cringe. “He’s very violent.”

Santoso took a deep breath, to retain a level of calmness or simply to enjoy the sea air, who could tell? “There is violence born of the desire and joy to hurt and harm and there is violence born of the need to be just, Abigail Livingston.” With this he looked at her and Abby was aware that the man’s eyes were eerily reflecting in the sunlight, almost as if they were glowing, a bright turquoise the color similar to the waters of the Caribbean. “Jonathan Grimm is a hard man, a just man and there are times violence is the only way to met out justice. Sometimes, violence must be met with violence.” He looked back over walls, as if to find what he was trying to say was written in the crags. “But mostly, he is a restless man, with many questions.”

“But-“

“Abigail.” Santoso laid a finger on her nose. “Sometimes, the only way one can survive, to save, is to respond with violence. One must meet it head on, on its own beach.”

Abby shook her head. She wasn’t going to be interrupted. “He chose that life. Sam says he could have been a great scientist but-” 

“Ah, Sam says, Sam says.” Santoso mimicked. “I should like to meet this Sam-says, your friend, Reaper-John’s sister, no?” Abby’s spine went stiff. She wanted to bring this very subject up. Santoso had done it for her. “Yes, I think I would like to meet this Sam-your-friend, Sam-says.” He wandered back to the edge and motioned her over. Abby looked over to the beach, watched to see that John had returned to the surf and was now swimming, body surfing in the waves. Even from this height, his physical, masculine beauty was obvious.

“If you are so curious about why he chose the life he chose,” Santoso was whispering in her ear, “ask him.” An old hand cupped her face; the thumb stroked the teardrop from her eye.

“There is no future with him, Santoso. I stand no chance.” It was whispered; a plea.

A lament.

“You sell yourself short, Abby-girl. Reaper-John sees things in you that tantalize him, things you would not understand, that he does not understand. Come!” Suddenly, his voice was chipper again. “We go back to the village and you tell me all about Sam-Your-Friend!” He tucked her hand into his elbow and moved to the torch still sputtering in the holder. “ Sam-Says! Tell me why I want to meet her so badly!”

Slowly, the two made their way back down to the jungle.

Unaware that John watched the rock face, focused on the opening way up high on the cliff, the echo of sound, still lingering in his ears.

_Bah…_

tbc


	9. 09 - We're off to see the Lizard

****

The Vacation 

****

Chapter 09 

****

Off to See the Lizard 

Every day, every morning, John jogged the beach.

And every day, every morning, since his date with Abby, he was aware he was being watched. Only now, he wasn’t being watched by just his nasty shadow. This voyeur…

…was hungry.

That was fine. So was he.

_Sunday’s coming, babygirl. Sunday’s coming._

~~~…~~~ 

On Wednesday, after his early morning jog, Reaper returned to find Sam on his computer, typing, keying…

“What are you doing?” He grabbed a hand-towel and wiped the salt from the ocean that was dried on his body, his face and shoulders.

“I’m bored, John.” Her eyes never left the computer screen. “Would you get the flash drives for me? I would have gotten them, but I didn’t want to dig through your stuff.” 

He dropped down to his room, changing into a pair of low-slung jeans before returning with the flash drives. He laid them next to her and took the chair cattycorner from her. “Why my computer? Why not yours?” 

“You’ll see.”

He watched her for several minutes, realizing the little furrow between her eyes was becoming more pronounced. “Your face is going to freeze that way if you don’t smile.”

Sam glared before giving him a mock, insincere grin. Suddenly her face lit up. “Ah-HA!” Her fingers sailed over the touchpad of the laptop, clicking, keying…

“What are you doing? And why my computer?”

“I decided…” she began slowly, “that if one of your buddies gave you a link… yes… run… to a program to unhide those files, I should be able… no, not there, I want it… there… to do an Oogly search and find a program similar…. Yes…. Execute!” Her smile now was genuine. “So I found one. It should be ready to go in fifteen minutes!” Damn, if she didn’t looked pleased with herself.

“SAM!” John was truly horrified. “We need scramblers, masks…smoke screens…”

“Don’t get your boxers in a wad, John.” Sam waved him as if he were a pesky fly. “I created a fake yahell account. NativeBleachBlonde. Apparently this site gets hundreds of hits a day, so I’ll be like a needle in a haystack! Besides,” she continued, perkily, “I found the motherlode of vintage porn and I’m downloading them for you. I know you hate Fred Astaire and Clark Gable.” She gestured to the screen. “Well, now you have The Opening of Misty Beethoven among others, to keep you occupied.” 

“The Opening of _what? Who_?”

“Misty Beethoven. Jamie Gillis. 1970’s. Hmmmm.” She tapped her lip thoughtfully. “I might want to copy that one. He’s hung rather well.” 

The next sound she heard was her brother’s head banging itself on the table.

An hour later, all of the hidden files from Dr. Carmack’s computer were opened up and sitting on John’s hard drive.

~~~…~~~ 

“I don’t like it.” By now, John had a bottle of water and was standing behind the island counter in the kitchen. He’d gone grocery shopping the afternoon before, while the honeymooners were trying out their beds and before they could rob the shelves of the little mini-mart. He’d picked up more water, (JinJin was right – the stuff in the faucets was disgusting!) as well as an extra case of beer and two bottles of wine. He told Sam if she drank it all, under no circumstances would there be more before next Monday!

He didn’t see Abby, which was probably just as well. He figured by the time he finished teasing her, she’d jump him in the middle of the street and he would let her. 

Sam was opening each folder, making sure the files were there and intact. “You don’t like what?” Her attention was obviously occupied elsewhere.

“I don’t like that shit on my hard drive.” He made his way from the kitchen and sat back down next to her, trying to look over her shoulder to the folders. “I don’t want it on my hard drive.”

Sam didn’t even look up. “Carmack’s files or the porn?” She looked up for a moment before returning her attention back to her task. “Don’t worry. I’m going to move Carmack’s stuff back to the flashdrives.” She leaned back and grabbed the bottle of water Reaper had been drinking out of. “It’s going to take me weeks to go through this information and analyze it.”

“Good thing we have time to spare,” Reaper muttered.

Now Sam did look up. For the first time since leaving Olduvai, Sam looked like his extremely intelligent, geeky, scientific sister who secretly terrified him. He recognized this Sam; they fought, argued, disliked each other. This Sam had no sense of humor, was all business, all things archeology and chromosomes and science stuff. 

“You’re bored,” Reaper spoke softly.

“Like a fucking checkers game,” his twin whispered back. The use of the word shocked him, but he worked not to let her notice. “I’ve been sitting here, drinking my mind away. Been there, done that.” She pointed to the screen. “I need to get my brain busy, see if we can undo what I did to you and if not, see what I can do to ensure you don’t turn into Super-Sarge. I had a job to do on Olduvai, I’ll simply continue it here.” She finished off John’s water. “Plus take on Carmack’s work-”

“NO!”

“To a point!” Her look brooked no nonsense. He hated that look, hated when he was on the wrong end of it because when he was on the wrong end of that look, he lost the battle and quite frankly, Reaper enjoyed being on top for the last two months. He liked being in charge; he liked having the last word. He wasn’t going to give in gracefully, if at all. “We need to back this stuff up in several places. Maybe an old-fashioned cloud.”

“Online?” Reaper snatched his now empty water bottle and started to take a swig before realizing it was empty. He rose from the chair and threw the plastic bottle in the trash. “No way.” He pointed at her. “No fucking way! Last thing we need is to lose stuff because some dictator got his boxers in a wad and hit the kill switch. We’d lose everything, we wouldn’t be able to access shit!”

“We still need to be able to back stuff up in more than one place.” 

For a moment, Reaper had deep thoughts; thoughts that made his head hurt, thoughts of gently worded threats.

“More flash drives or a small, compact external. And we need to hide them.” 

Sam tapped her lip thoughtfully. “We could burn this stuff on discs.”

“Are you nuts?” 

“AND mislabel them. Label them as your porn movies or somesuch.” 

Reaper snarled. “That’s the first place they will look!”

Sam puckered up in thought. “Label them with Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly labels. A lot of bad B flicks.” 

“That,” her brother grudgingly admitted, “would probably work.”

Sam was now tapping her lip, flipping through files. “There are a lot of pictures on here as well. We could get a photochip and back those up on it. They are relatively small…” her voice wandered off.

Reaper was not in a good mood. “We still need to figure out where to hide this shit.” 

“Tell you what,” Sam was in a better mood than her brother and she realized he was probably just as bored as she was. “Let me figure out how we’re going to back this up and I’ll let you figure out where we’re going to hide it all. Deal?”

Reaper stared at her hard. She didn’t wilt. 

“How much porn?”

~~~…~~~ 

Two hours later, Sam looked up from her own files to hear John screaming obscenities in his room. She got up and slowly made her way down the hall. “Johnny? What’s wrong?”

John threw the door open. He glared out into the hall at his sister. “Those porn movies you downloaded for me?”

“Yes?” 

“The women... they’re natural! It’s disgusting!”

Sam knotted her eyebrows. “Women are unnatural? I thought you liked women! ”

“They haven’t shaved, Sam!” Both hands ‘V’ d at his crotch. “They’re bushy down there!!!” 

At which, Sam shook her head, turned and gimped off in disgust. “Men! Like you’re the only ones furry down there!”

~~~…~~~ 

On Friday, he took her to the beach.

She walked.

He ran circles around her. Taunted her, pestered her. Sam rolled her eyes. It was like being back in the hospital. If he would slow down just a hair, she’d smack him. 

Back at the house – Sam caught herself referring to it as ‘home’ – she began going through her files, her research, what was downloaded. She needed programs, lab equipment…

… and her list was getting longer and longer. 

“Think Abby will order that for you?” John was yet again zipping around her, dancing in and out of her reach.

Sam was pensive. “Some of this stuff is really expensive.”

“Maybe she has it already?” The beach was quiet. They were on the end where no one went, where the cliffs were high and where John knew they were watched by someone up in the cliffs. He knew they were there; knew _she_ was there, question was how did one get in them? There had to be another way to access the caves besides up the cliff wall, because he didn’t think Abby was like him…

And he knew it was Abby. There was a difference between the feel of her watching and the voyeur that gave him the creeps, put him on edge.

“Maybe. But we haven’t talked to her yet.”

With this, Reaper stopped his endless, dizzying circling. He jogged up to his sister and stopped, the smell of sweat very prevalent. The disgusting bastard wasn’t even breathing hard. “Last Sunday, she said she’d be happy to have your help with her research. Since we’re having dinner with her tonight, you can bring it up. When I have lunch with her on Sunday, I’ll make sure all the details are straight.” He grinned, lop-sided. “Shoot, maybe she’ll let you get started on Sunday and you can take inventory of what she has while we’re at lunch.”

Sam stared at him in disbelief. “Don’t you dare take her back to our place and shag her senseless while I’m working!” 

Reaper’s hand went over his heart, theatrically. “Perish the thought.” They turned around to return towards the public beach. “I’ll do her in her bed, when you’re not around, don’t you worry!” She screeched at his crassness, but when she attempted to smack him, he ran off ahead of her, laughing at her fury.

~~~…~~~ 

Friday night at The Pit, the private nick-name Reaper had given the one ‘decent’ restaurant on the island, was having what he figured was a typical Friday night – everyone on the island who didn’t live on the island permanently (Save him, Sam, Abby, and JinJin at the bar) was there for dinner. They had the same, very nice table they had the week before, only this time, John situated himself to see the door, see everything. He didn’t want the sinister watcher at his back, putting him at a disadvantage, but mostly he wanted to watch Abby as she entered the restaurant.

 _Same little sundress, same long legs…_

“JOHN!” Sam was hissing. “Anyone can tell what you’re thinking!” 

Reaper immediately schooled his features. “Oh really?” The tone of his voice brought unholy chills to his sister’s spine. “And that would be?”

Before she could answer, Abby sat down and joined them. “Sam!” She hugged her friend, before acknowledging the man across from her. “Hello, John.”

Reaper nodded his head. He wasn’t sure he’d get any reasonable facsimile of a decent sentence out. The scent coming from her was more powerful than ever and it was wreaking havoc on his own senses. He concentrated on his extremely bloody rare steak, while the girls chattered about work.

“Of course, I could use your input and help,” Abby was obviously enthused with the idea of Sam being her lab partner. Both women were enjoying a pan-fried sole with lemon-butter. “Of course, once you can get around better, I know you’ll be entrenched in the ruins in the jungle.” She drummed her fingers restlessly on the table. “I wish I could pay you, take you on as a partner.” 

Sam waved her off. “Don’t worry about it.” Reaper was watching and she had only had one glass of wine this evening. Obviously, she didn’t want a repeat of last Saturday morning. “I just need something to occupy me. Who knows; the ruins might not be anything spectacular and I’ll be back in your hair after a few days.” 

Abby smiled at that. “I think you’ll want to use my equipment for your own research rather than mine when it gets to that point.” 

_Nooooooo shit, Sherlock!_

She set her empty wine glass down. “Have you seen the ruins?”

Abby was also trying to scale back on her drinking. Her memories of John kissing her on the previous Friday were hazy and she was hoping he would walk her home again this evening, as well as was hoping for a repeat performance. Maybe he would…

She realized both twins were staring at her expectantly. “Yeah, I have seen them. Of course, they are pretty overgrown and you’ll want proper gear, plus gloves. It is the jungle.”

“So gloves, mosquito repellent and such. For me and John.”

Abby looked surprised. “You’ll help her?” 

John raised one sardonic eyebrow. “Well, yeah.” He leaned forward as if to whisper a secret. “Sam isn’t the only one bored to tears. It’s not like I can run up and down the beach all day long for someone’s viewing pleasure.” Abby’s gasp was silent, almost unnoticeable, but John knew he struck a nerve. He leaned forward standing up. “I’ll be right back.” He made his way over the bar, waving down a rather nervous looking JinJin.

“How does he do that?” Abby murmured.

“Do what?” 

Abby shook her head, not wanting to divulge anything. 

Sam knew what her friend was thinking. She had seen it too many times when her other girlfriends had fallen in love with her brother. Each time, he broke their hearts and each time, she lost a friend over her brother. “Abby, please be careful. John is really good at getting women to fall in love with him when he doesn’t mean to and then when he breaks their hearts-”

“Lost a lot of friends that way, haven’t you?” 

“Yeah.” 

Abby lifted her empty wine glass and toasted her friend. “I promise not to let your hot sexy little brother get between our friendship. Someday, we are going to leave this island and we will go our separate ways. I’ll remember it fondly.” She watched as John handed JinJin a piece of folded paper and after dipping his head, turned and headed back to the table, catching her eye.

The boy had smoldering, bedroom eyes and she was on fire…

“Abby!” Abby jerked her attention back to a very bemused Sam. Sam shook her head in mock disgust. “You two are pathetic. The both of you just need-”

“Need what?” John sat back down, taking in the charged atmosphere at the table.

Both women immediately reached for the wine bottle. “Nevermind.” “Nothing.” 

For some reason, this caused John to laugh very low in his throat. _Women. They were so obvious._

~~~…~~~ 

Again, John drove them back to his and Sam’s, making sure Sam was secure (and alone) in the house, before walking Abby to her home. Somewhere between the village and the dwelling, he had been roped into squiring both women on a shopping excursion the next day that he prayed would not take the entire day.

For the second time, Abby invited him in.

Once more, John declined, but not before kissing her thoroughly, leaving her panting and drenched and him with the boner from hell and a hazy red vision that faded as he got back in control of himself as he walked back down the walkway.

And yet again, Santoso stood at the edge of the trees, wanting to smack his head against the nearest trunk. Apparently, Reaper-John was playing a game and teasing Abby-girl to dangerous heights, not realizing what he was doing to himself. He might have to do something about that.

~~~…~~~ 

John entered the house. It was dark and he could see his sister’s silhouette in the darkness in the kitchen.

She was armed with the biggest butcher knife in the drawer. 

“Sam?” Every sense was heightened. He immediately went on alert, his eyes, searching. “Can I turn on the lights?”

“Please.”

He reached out his hand and turned on the light. The main area was empty and with a gesture to stay put, he went through the house again, searching. Finding nothing, he returned to the kitchen. “What’s wrong?”

Sam still hadn’t put the knife away and she clutched it to her, her knuckles white. “I heard something towards the back and I... investigated.”

“The back? The back is my room.”

“Yeah. I know.” Sam’s eyes had not left the hallway. “I heard a noise so I went to look. I figured it was a bird or a monkey on your terrace. It wasn’t. There was someone on your balcony.” Finally, her eyes met his. “There was someone… a man… a man shape on your balcony.” She still hadn’t given up her knife. If anything, she clutched it tighter.

“Man… shape?” 

Her bottom lip started to tremble. “He had red, glowing eyes. Like the things had on Olduvai.”

_***_  
tbc  
*** 


	10. Chapter 10 - Island Fever

****

The Vacation 

****

Chapter 10 

****

Island Fever 

For the first time in… years… since their parents death… John slept with Sam.

Truthfully, he didn’t sleep. Not a wink. He lay in her bed, propped up, with his sister curled against him, tucked protectively under his arm, clinging to him. Somehow, earlier in the evening, he managed to pry the knife from her; not that it was hard and not that she would have, much less could have, hurt him. She trusted him, was counting on him guarding her. He double, triple checked the windows, the doors, the patio doors to make sure they were reinforced, locked, pegged. He didn’t tell her about the large handprints on the glass, making it clear that someone had pressed themselves to the pane. The alarm system was thoroughly armed and ready. He even checked it, ensuring it would go off and loudly if anything were breached. And then he had to put up with the annoying, enquiring visit from the local police who were mildly put off that he had ‘accidentally’ set off the alarm. So wonderful, if it went off, they would be swarmed with inept Barney Fifes in short pants and no guns in a matter of minutes. Once everything was primed, ready, equipped and fortified, he gave Sam a mild sedative, just enough to relax her and crawled into bed next to her. She immediately sought out his side, his comforting heat, wrapped herself as best she could around him, literally attached to him. Her head was on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat, comforting and lulling. Both of her legs were wrapped around the one nearest to her. Had he needed to get up even to take a piss, she would definitely wake up and know about it. And he wouldn’t put it past her to insist on following him in, hiding in the tub with the shower curtain closed while he did what he needed to do.

Instead, he lay there, allowing her to almost crawl into his skin, his arms around her tenderly.

Dammit to fucking hell, JinJin better have those weapons for him on the next flight in. Had to. Even if someone made a special trip, Reaper didn’t care. Until then, he was going to keep Sam close, safe, guarded. That shopping expedition was going to take all damn fucking day and that was fine. It would keep both women occupied and out of the house. He might have to cancel his Sunday date with Abby. If that were the case, then Abby would just have to understand.

So while Sam slept and whimpered and clung, Reaper stayed primed, ready to attack, to defend, his body taut, anything but relaxed.

So intent on his objective, he didn’t realize that his eyes were glowing red in the dark.

~~~…~~~ 

“What’s wrong with Sam?”

Reaper was overseeing the shopping spree. It was planned, Sam was moving around better. He had promised her, promised Abby and he fully expected to be their bag carrier and so far, that was turning out to be the case. Who would have known his sister withdrew a substantial sum of mad money from her account before they left? Mad money? His sister? She was spending like crazy. He himself had put a hefty sum on several generic ‘Visa gift cards’, paying them in cash in general places in small increments, so as not to raise any eyebrows.

He hoped. 

Regardless, he deposited Sam and Abby at the first shop – conveniently near JinJin’s, high-tailed to the man’s abode, scared the shitola out of him yet again, making sure he understood Reaper’s extreme need for weapons, ASAP! (Really! For a man who was supposedly old Special Ops, he got his boxers in a wad too easily! The man had a complete melt-down when he found out they had had a Peeping Tom!) and returning to his sister’s scene of shopping-attack before she realized he was gone.

“John!” Abby’s fingers were snapping in front of his face, bringing him out of his inner thoughts. “John! What is up with your sister?”

“What’s wrong with her?” he dead-panned. “She’s buying everything in sight. Isn’t that a female thing?”

Abby smirked. “Not that. She’s nervous. She jumps at everything.”

Reaper tried to look unconcerned. “We had an… unexpected visitor last night.”

Abby tilted her head. “An unexpected... What?” She put her fists on her hips, as if that was supposed to be impressive. “Who?” 

Reaper looked around, as if to peruse the merchandise. He took a step to the nearest display case, waving away the clerk. “We had an unexpected visitor last night.”

“So you said. I don’t understand.”

“We had a Peeping Tom.”

“WHAT?”

Sam looked up, terror obvious in her face. Reaper smirked and hissed between clenched teeth. “Keep your voice down. When I took you home last night,” he held up a necklace and draped it around Abby’s throat, as if he were considering it, “Sam heard a noise on my balcony. She investigated and thought she saw someone.”

“You mean something?” Abby took up her role and taking the necklace from him, admired it in the little mirror. 

“No. Some _one_!” He held his hand out for the piece of jewelry and looked at the price tag, before shuddering and setting it back. Women were expensive. Best to just take them out for a drink and rent a decent hotel room. “She went into my room and saw someone.”

Abby’s jaw was flapping. “But who? The island is a tourist spot. There isn’t anyone else here but… you don’t think one of the natives would do that?”

Reaper leaned into her and smiled mirthlessly. “I don’t knoooow your natives, remember?” He then began to wander down the case, pretending to examine the merchandise in the cabinet. 

Abby turned in the opposite direction, her thoughts turned inward. Suddenly, sadness, disappointment crept across her features. _Pity,_ he thought, _she’s such an open book._

She made the circle and whispered, “I guess our date tomorrow is off, if she’s still scared. You won’t want to leave her home alone.”

“Scared? Who’s scared?” Abby jumped when she realized Sam was at her shoulder. “That’s pretty,” she pointed at the necklace that had given Reaper the male monetary hives. “How much is it?”

“Too much, unless you’re paying,” Reaper scowled. “I was telling Abby about our visitor last night and that it’s made you skittish. We’re trying to figure out if we are going out tomorrow or not, like we planned.”

“You go on. I’ll be fine.” Reaper scowled at his sister for that.

“Why don’t you come with us?” Reaper turned to the other woman and scowled harder.

“No, really, I couldn’t interfere,”

“It’s not a problem-“

The two women chattered back and forth, giving Reaper a headache of massive proportions.

“Can I interrupt?” Sam’s brown eyes and Abby’s green ones focused on him. “Do you have any weapons?”

“I have a machete I use in the jungle.” Abby shivered. “I don’t like guns. They’re violent.”

“That’s their job,” Reaper retorted. “You want them to be good at it and they are. Would you mind,” he interrupted Abby’s argument, “if Sam got started doing whatever you needed her to do? We’ll be... what? A few hours?” He could tell by Sam’s look, they were in for a rousing discussion when they returned to the house. “I’m thinking she’ll feel a bit safer elsewhere for a few days.”

“Sure,” Abby was quick to agree. “I’m sure Sam would like to get acquainted with the material and equipment I’ve got, read through my notes. I don’t mind.” The two women nodded in agreement. “Sometimes, I feel like I stare at the same thing over and over and over. It would be nice to have a fresh set of eyes.”

With that agreed upon, the threesome continued their jaunt. 

They finished up with dinner and after depositing all the bags in the cart – Reaper was floored by the amount his sister could spend at the drop of a hat, was this a woman thing? - dropped Abby off at her home, forgoing the normally planned and expected very hot kiss.

He would just to make it up to her later. 

It was dark by the time they returned to the house. Sam stayed in the living room as John went through each room, turning on the lights, checking the windows, doors, closets. Finally, he rejoined her in the living room, carrying Sam’s overnight case. “We’re good.”

“Fine! Now,” she spat in Sam-like fashion, “what is your objective in leaving me at Abby’s while you enjoy yourself? And why do you have my night case?”

Reaper’s face split into his cockiest grin. “Easy.” Setting the case on the table, he reached into the bag and pulled out Sam’s vibrators. “First off, start vaselineing or lubing the hell out of these when they aren’t in use. If someone is looking for something, I want these to be as gross and repulsive as possible!” He smirked at her vocalizations of disgust. Again, he unscrewed the battery compartments and retrieved the flash drives and C24 vial. “Put the information on these flashdrives on your laptop, take it with you in your backpack with the flashdrives and while we’re gone, start copying Abby’s information as well as seeing what equipment she has that we can borrow. Make a list of her gear, what she has, compared with what you’re going to need. Also, in a week or two, we’re going to start excavating, so start making that list too. ”

“John, that’s stealing!” 

“No and we’ve had this discussion!” he shook the flashdrives. “That’s gathering information. We’re not going into competition with her; we’re not going to take over her project. We need to find an excuse to borrow her equipment if she has what we need. We just need to know what she knows and figure out that connection between me and her natives!” He put the items on the table. “I pray there is a cure for what you gave me or we figure out a way for me to live with it. I really don’t want to spend my life in some jungle hiding from people.”

_Or ducking Santoso’s walking stick!_

~~~…~~~ 

“All right, you’re good?”

Sam brandished the machete, a mock scowl that Duke would have appreciated, on her face. “Grrrr. How’s that?” 

Reaper didn’t crack a smile. “Pathetic. Lock the door. Don’t let anyone in but me.” Waiting for the latch to click and the sound of the lock to slide, he turned to his date, who waited expectantly. 

“Is she safe enough?” Abby asked cockily.

“No.” He continued on over Abby’s shocked retorts. “But she’s safer there than at our place right now.” With unusual gentlemanly kindness, he gave her a hand up into the golf cart. As he slid into the driver’s side and put it into gear, he grinned. “This thing is growing on me. I might have to get fuzzy dice.” 

“Or fringe?”

He gave her a mock glare, before throwing the cart into reverse. “Don’t be absurd.” He did a turn and pulled out. “That would be over-doing it.”

Sam stood by the window, watching the two head off and wondered what her brother said to make her friend laugh so hard.

~~~…~~~ 

“Why did you go into the Marines?”

It came out of the blue, wholly unexpected. They had had a nice lunch, same bistro. They strolled around town and were now meandering down the beach, John carrying a bucket with seashells in one hand and holding Abby’s hand in the other. Abby was carrying a basket with dessert, a bottle of wine and two plastic wine glasses. He was having romantic thoughts; something he hadn’t had in a long time and she had just burst the bubble.

“I was looking for adventure,” he murmured. 

“No. Really.” Abby stopped, dropping his hand. “I understand you had a promising college career and you… just walked away from it.” He opened his mouth to protest, but Abby put her hand up. “Please. I saw the look in your eye when you told Sam about the ruins, about helping her. Your eyes lit up! You’re as excited to start digging and pulling up vines as she is.” Abby stepped towards him, her own look pleading.

“My reasons are my own. They have nothing to do with the lure of discovery.” It was snapped and Abby recoiled at the emotional slap, making Reaper feel like a low-life. “I’m sorry.” With this he reached out to her, retaking her hand. “I watched my parents die. There was nothing I could do.”

Horror and understanding combined flew over Abby’s face. “Oh John, I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.”

Reaper shrugged. “Not your fault. I try not to think about it.” Still holding her hand, he resumed their leisurely walk down the beach. They were now entering the secluded area and John’s hackles went immediately up. His voyeur was back and in a bad way.

_At least he’s here, watching me and not terrorizing Sam!_

“Do you remember, back in the summer of 2036, that crazy group of fascists that took over that church during a Wednesday night service?” 

Abby was deep in thought. “Vaguely. Jog my memory.”

“The cops were called, but they thought they were dealing with a hostage situation. They were but not like the cops thought.” He swallowed hard. “They slaughtered the pastor, crucified on him on the chapel’s cross, shot all the adults in the sanctuary and then used the children as shields. By the time the cops got enough nerve to go in… everyone was dead. The kids… the… them.”

“I remember now,” Abby whispered. “It was awful.”

“Yeah.” Making it look as if he were staring off somewhere, John perused the cliffs. “I had a friend in the Marines. I went to high school with him. He blasted on his blog that had a real tactical squad gone in immediately, they could have saved almost everyone.” He couldn’t see anything, but he could sense it. Someone was up there, someone… unfriendly. “So I joined up. I wanted to help someone now, not down the road. Studying skeletons just didn’t seem… proactive.”

It was quiet as they continued their walk, the sound of the ocean, the waves reverberating from the cliffs. 

“So, have you been proactive. How many people have you saved?”

_Sam. I saved Sam._

“Countless.”

Suddenly, a memory he had forgotten, pushed back in his mind, raged up – a guerilla in the rainforest, holding a native child, not much more than three or four, using him as a human shield. The child was screaming, the guerilla was screaming and John couldn’t understand a word.

He hadn’t hesitated. Putting a bullet into the man’s skull and dropping his weapon to grab the little boy, before his captor fell into the river…

_Calling the crocodiles…_

And how had the kid repaid him? He vomited all over John’s chest and peed on his knee.

Not that he blamed the kid.

Thinking back now, he kind of wondered what became of the little boy. What really bothered him was he couldn’t remember exactly what the guerilla was fighting for and why they had taken the village hostage. Something to do with mining rights and a village artifact…

_Something stupid. Always something stupid._

“John? John?” Reaper was pulled from his thoughts; his memories back to the present. Abby’s eyes were searching, soul searching. “Are you all right?” 

He shrugged, trying to shake it off. “I’m fine.”

Abby took the bucket from him. “No you’re not. You went somewhere. Somewhere not nice.”

John stared at her hard. “Why are you so interested?”

“Because you looked… stricken. You looked… I can’t explain it, but you weren’t happy.” Setting the bucket and the basket down, she took both of his hands in hers. “Why do you it? Do you really like your job?”

John thought for a moment, trying to find the words to answer. “As with any… job,” he finally whispered, “there are aspects I don’t like.” He put her hands together and covered them with his. 

_She is so tiny and I’m so huge…_

“But I’ve been able to help people who needed help right then.”

“Including Sam.” The smile was faint.

“Including Sam. Especially Sam.” He squeezed gently, before bending over to pick up the wine basket and abruptly changed the subject. “What say I get you rip roaring wasted on the wine so I can have my way with you on the beach?”

Abby giggled at that. “I don’t think so, but we should be able to enjoy ourselves for a little while.”

Which they did, all the way, John acutely aware they were being watched.

_Fine. Just leave Sam alone._

tbc


	11. 11 - Who are we trying to fool?

****

The Vacation 

**__**

Chapter 11 

**__**

Who are we trying to fool?

“She has everything we need.” Sam was downloading information from her flash drives to her laptop. “Everything but one thing and it’s expensive.”

“What’s the one thing?” John was standing behind her, watching the transfer progress. “Is this everything she has?” 

“This doesn’t begin to touch what information she has.” Sam was watching also, with great interest. “This is going to take a while.” Her eyes didn’t leave the monitor. “I mean copying her notes.” She looked at her brother over her shoulder. “I cannot begin to tell you how guilty I feel doing this. It’s unethical.”

“It will get us closer to an answer.” John was looking out the windows, gazing out into the Pacific. “She doesn’t need to know. It’s not like we’re in the same field. She’s studying the natives and why they tick. We’re studying and comparing what’s on Olduvai. ” He paused for a moment. “Besides, it would be dangerous to her.” 

Sam was back to gazing at the progress bar. It finished and she pulled the flash drive out. “It’s dangerous to everyone.” She inserted another flash drive. “I don’t think she knows what she has. I’ve perused some of the stuff and it’s extensive.” She heard the unasked question from her brother. “It’s not her area of expertise.” 

The task bar was loading. “What piece of equipment does she not have?” 

Sam was mesmerized by what was going on on her laptop. “Do you remember the genetic and chromosomal analyzer in my lab on Olduvai?”

John whistled. “That won’t be easy to pick up.”

”No,” Sam shook her head, “but if she managed to get any genetic material, she does need one.” 

“Does that genetic tester do other things?” 

Sam’s eyes rose from her monitor, the answer in them. 

“Well, I suppose she should find out how benevolent her sponsors are, shouldn’t she? 

“John,” Sam said with false patience, “she would need a reason to ask for it.” 

“Or,” John was blasé, “we could ask our benevolent sponsor for one.” 

“John!”

“We’re going to need it when I take you into the jungle.” He turned and went into the kitchen to get a beer from the refrigerator. “At least, I think we’re going to need it.” 

Sam never took her eyes from the computer monitor. “Fucking tease.”

~~~…~~~ 

Monday’s flight brought gifts for the twins. CD’s, blank and movies (including a series of black and white Frank Sinatra films and Martin and Lewis, as well) a scrambler, other electronic devices, hardware tools, two very nice cameras with several digital chips, more flash drives, an AK-47, two Glocks, and a small derringer, along with gun grease, ammunition and a note that ammunition would be included each week.

“Each week?” Sam’s jaw dropped. “What are we doing to get ammunition each week?”

“Stockpiling and target practice.” John was in heaven, sitting in the floor, with everything spread out. He was taking the guns and rifles apart, inspecting, cleaning each piece. He hadn’t felt this calm, this at peace since before the Olduvai job. Truth be told, had the boxes been gift-wrapped, it would have been like Christmas when they were children. Even Sam was excited, going through the items.

“John?” He looked to see her holding up two machetes. “At least these are for the jungle, right?” She looked hopeful. 

“Yeah, if you say so.” 

She turned them point down and pressed them to the floor. “I say so.” 

“Fine.” 

It was quiet for a few minutes, while they continued to inspect, open, and marvel at the generosity of their patron. 

“Next time, tell Mr. Benevolent Benefactor to send chocolate!” 

“You want them in a heart shaped box?” 

Rather than retort, Sam pushed a large box towards Reaper. “I think this one is yours.” 

John took a hold of the package and turned it, looking for the label. Finding it, he grinned. “I have always wanted one of these!” Like an over-excited child on Christmas Day, he tore it opened and digging for the power drill, headed out to his balcony off his bedroom. 

Within the hour, the sound of a boxing balloon, being beaten in rhythm, echoed clear to Abby’s and over the jungle. The noise was calming to Sam’s nerves. 

Reaper heard her squeal with delight when she opened up the archeological tools.

~~~…~~~ 

For two weeks, Sam worked with Abby at her home, cataloguing, arranging, reading Abby’s notes. And copying everything she possibly could when Abby’s back was turned. Most of her friend’s notes appeared to be and were probably irrelevant, however, Sam didn’t know. If John wasn’t there, pestering the two women and driving them insane, he was at his and Sam’s house, going over each note, filing in his ever-expanding mind, backing up information, trying to find hiding places for the backup. He didn’t trust Jinjin; he didn’t want to trust their faceless and nameless benefactor.

After getting the scrambler hooked up and humming, he and Sam spent two days dealing with email. Both were full from families of former co-workers, friends, asking, pleading demanding information. There were rumors, threats of lawsuits. As discussed, the twins decided to play insomnia, claimed complete stupidity, simply offer condolences, in Sam’s case, she didn’t remember much of what happened; it was well-documented that she was unconscious when brought to the surface and was not in the vicinity of ‘the accident’. In John’s case, families knew he could not divulge information, as a Marine and the Marine family was tight-knit. They knew they would only know what the government wanted them to know. John made sure each mother, father, sibling knew their son died honorably and bravely. 

The email to The Kid’s family was particularly difficult. After sending the short, to the point email, John spent an hour beating the hell of the balloon attached to the roof of the balcony. 

Reaper had numerous emails from former female friends, wanting to know, make sure he was okay...

Sam had several from former colleagues. None from former lovers. 

Over lunch, John brought up the subject that perhaps she should find a hunky native to have fun with. There were plenty on the island and women had needs too.

He found himself pelted with cheese. 

He made a note to add batteries to the supply list. 

His commanding officer had sent three emails; each one form-like, reminding John of their discussion in his office before being sent on this enforced vacation. The most recent let him know that he was not being released and that this ‘R&R’ had been approved to last ‘indefinitely.’

Essentially, an extended paid leave of absence. Reaper could handle that. His online bank balance was showing steady, bi-monthly deposits. This was paradise. Thing was, if he didn’t take care of a few things soon, this would end up being known as the Paradise of the Blue Balls.

~~~…~~~ 

“JOHN!” Sam was laughing. “You’re going to get us killed!”

“Duck!” 

John was running through the rainforest, Sam riding piggyback. In the past week, John had been jogging the beach, carrying Sam most of the time. She was still limping, but was ambling along quite well. The uneven terrain in the forest, however, was proving to be a slowing down point for his sister, so he carried her, along with their gear, on his back.

The machetes and both AK –47s, lunch – must bring lunch and beer and water and tools, Reaper felt like a common pack animal. Hopefully, they would find a spot to store the tools. 

Regardless, he was running like a wild man, branches, foliage being swept aside and smacking Sam in the face if she didn’t –

“ DUCK!”

Whap!

“Dammit!”

Sam began to smack her brother on the head. “Either slow down or let me down! Dammit, John, I’m bleeding!”

“We’re almost there!”

“JOHN! Didn’t you hear me?” Sam wiped her face, where sure enough, she found a smear of blood on her fingertips. “I’m bleeding!” She shoved the bloody digit in his face. “See?”

He stopped.

“Thank God!”

“Close your eyes.”

“JOHN!”

He set her down gently and turned around. “Ew. I’ll need to amputate your nose.”

“JOHN!” 

With a sweaty index finger, he swiped her nose once. “It’s not bad. Don’t be a baby. Close your eyes.” 

“Why?” She dabbed at her nose, disgusted at the serious lack of blood, considering her bellyaching. 

Reaper pointed ahead. “It’s right through there.” He took her by the hand. “Close your eyes.”

“John!”

He threw her hand down, petulance on his face. “You’ll ruin the surprise! I’ve worked damn hard at this!” He smiled and it melted her. “Close. Your. Eyes.”

With much pretend reluctance, Sam closed her eyes. It didn’t matter because John stepped behind her, putting his hands over them and nudged her forward.

They went through the plants…

The sound of the monkeys and birds stopped and Sam felt a very gentle breeze… 

John’s hands left her face and he whispered, “Open your eyes.” 

She did. She inhaled…

“Oh.” She exhaled. “Oh… John… oh…”

“You like?” 

“OH WOW!” Sam began to bounce as best she could. “This is…” she walked into the middle of the ruins, turning in a circle. “This is amazing! I don’t know where to start!” 

The clearing – if one could call it that – was quite large, vines, foliage climbing upwards as high as the tops of the trees. The overgrowth provided shade in the shelter. A small bit of the ruins were uncovered, uncovered by Reaper and Santoso back when the old native brought Reaper here weeks before. There was easily months, possibly years worth of work here. Much to be discovered and explored. It looked to John’s untrained eye that Santoso’s ancestors had a rich, rich, but well-hidden history. 

As Santoso said, enough to keep Sam’s mind occupied and working.

John was setting down their equipment and pulled out the machetes. “I say, and this is simply my uneducated opinion-”

“We clear the foliage first. Get rid of the vines and eliminate the unnecessary.” She wrinkled her noise, turning in circles. “A burn barrel or pit will be necessary.”

“What is, Sam –Says, a burn barrel or pit?” The elderly man startled Sam, causing her to seek out John, who seemed completely at ease. “Reaper-John. You have not told your sister who I am?” The man appeared to have his feelings hurt. 

John was kneeling, removing the tools now. “Sam. This is Santoso, wise man of the jungle.”

“You give me too credit,” Santoso was not blushing, but basking in John’s tribute. 

“Santoso?” Sam was cautious. “The one that Abby talks about?”

“Abby-girl tells me much about you, friend of Abby, Sam-says. Sam says this, Sam says that.”

“John?” Sam was not completely sold.

“Santoso is okay, Sam. He showed me this place.” 

The man grinned and spread his arms. “My ruins are your ruins, Sam-says.” His face returned to that of curiosity. “What is a burn barrel?”

“A burn barrel is a metal container where we can burn trash and such. If we can’t find a barrel, we dig a pit.”

“The smoke wards off spiders and snakes and other things we don’t like who don’t like us,” John finished. 

Santoso spread his arms wide. “There is no trash here. All beautiful, living things.”

“That might be so,” Sam interjected, “but when we cut down the vines, they’ll die.”

“Much can be rerooted, Sam-Says. You give me what is in your way, I take it elsewhere.”

Sam had to smile at that. “A true nature lover, are you?”

“All life is sacred,” he intoned solidly. “Even green life.” He waved to a corner. “You leave in pile. I take to replant.” He nodded upwards. “Enjoy.” And with that, the man turned and toddled off into the jungle.

John had everything laid out and was watching his sister watch the elderly man. “Ready to get started?”

Sam was still watching the swaying bush leaves wave, whether by wind or by the old man’s passing, was anyone’s guess. She pulled her heavy gloves from her hip pocket and pulled them on. “Yeah. Let’s start somewhere easy.”

They worked diligently for many hours, breaking for lunch and John thrashing off the clearing to make sure nothing was hiding when Sam needed to take care of personal business. She was so exhausted by the afternoon, not only did John carry her completely out, she laid wasted on the couch the next day, accepting the painkiller John got for her. After that, John scheduled ‘dig time’ carefully and methodically, alternating off days and days with Abby’s computer with dig mornings or afternoons. True to his word and request, all removed vegetation was left in a pile and was cleared out and gone when they returned.

While Sam was blissfully unaware, John was very sensitive of the fact that they were being watched. And not by ‘nice’ eyes. 

Several weeks after beginning the clearing, they finally had a large section of the far side done. Sam stepped back, took yet another picture and stared hers and John’s handiwork.

“Do you see what I see?” she whispered.

“Yeah.” Truth was, John saw it when he first laid eyes on the place.

“It looks like Mars.” She exhaled. “It looks like Olduvai.”


End file.
